THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


FROM  THE  LIBRARY  OF 
ERNEST  CARROLL  MOORE 


— V.   /  - 


<r  «-<>i. 


MONSIEUR    GUIZOT 

IN    PRIVATE   LIFE. 

1787-1874. 

BY   HIS   DAUGHTER, 

MADAME    DE    WITT. 

AUTHORISED  EDITION. 

TRANSLATED    BY 

M.    C.    M.    SIMPSON, 

TEANSLATOE   OF   "NAPOLEON's    LETTERS   TO    KING  JOSEPH;*'    "  MEMOIE   AND    EEMAINS    OP 
ALEXIS   DE  TOCQUEVILLE;"    "  UICHELEl'S  SU&IUABY   OF  MODEBN   HISTOEY,"   ETC, 


BOSTON: 
ESTES   AND   LAURIAT,    PUBLISHERS, 

299-305  Washington  Steeet. 

1882. 


Copyright,  1880, 
By  Estes  and  Lauklat. 


UNIVERSITY    press: 
JOHN   WILSON  AND  SON,    CAMBRIDGE. 


DC 


PREFACE. 


'  I  AM  weary  of  seeing  my  friends  die,'  said  M.  Guizot 
on  the  twenty-ninth  of  August,  1867,  as  he  stood 
beside  the  grave  of  his  friend  Herbet;  and  this 
thought  was  ever  in  his  mind.  While  still  young,  he 
had  lost  many  that  were  dear  to  him,  and  his  old  age 
was  repeatedly  saddened  by  the  departure  of  those 
companions  of  his  long  life  who  preceded  him  into 
eternity.  He  even  survived  nearly  all  the  friends 
whose  public  career  had  begun  long  after  his  own. 
Many  of  them  might  have  told  the  history  of  their 
common  lives  :  they  died  before  him,  and  it  became 
his  duty  to  render  homage  to  their  memory.  On 
several  occasions  he  endeavoured  to  make  known 
to  the  world  the  nobility  of  the  soul  and  the  gi'eat 
intelligence  of  those  who  had  passed  away.  Not 
one  of  them,  however,  stood  more  in  need  than  he 
himself  did  of  this  last  solemn  tribute.  His  whole 
life  was  devoted  to  his  country,  and  his  country  knew 
only    his    external    life  and    character.      The    most 


IV  PREFACE. 

precious,  if  not  the  most  splendid  of  the  gifts  be- 
stowed on  him  by  God  were  hidden  within  the  small 
circle  of  those  whom  he  loved.  This  is  the  reason 
why  the  public  did  not  always  understand  his  char- 
acter, his  motives,  or  his  objects.  It  is  this  mistaken 
view  which  I  earnestly  desire  to  rectify.  I  do  not 
propose  to  retrace  my  father's  public  career ;  he  has 
already,  in  his  Memoirs,  written  all  that  he  wished 
to  have  said  about  it.  It  is  himself  that  I  desire  to 
make  known  to  a  generation  which  soon  will  have 
ceased  to  be  his.  Some  extracts  taken  from  his 
private  correspondence  will,  I  hope,  attain  this  end. 
I  have  not  until  now  had  the  courage  to  make  the 
selection. 


NOTE  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


'M.  GuizoT  is  never  greater  or  more  amiable  than 
in  his  own  family.' 

These  are  the  concluding  words  of  Mr.  Senior's 
record  of  our  delightful  visit  to  Val-Richer ;  and  all 
who  read  the  following  pages  will  agree  in  their 
truth,  and  will  acknowledge  that  Madame  de  Witt 
has  nobly  and  completely  fulfilled  the  task  she  pro- 
posed to  herself  of  making  known  to  the  world  her 
father  himself,  and  thus  preventing  his  being  handed 
down  to  posterity  as  '  the  stiff,  tragical,  and  solitary 
personage  that  will  end  by  becoming  legendary,  and 
as  false  as  any  other  legend '  (see  p.  315). 

No  one,  however,  who  had  the  happiness  of  know- 
ing M  Guizot  would  have  recognized  him  in  the 
'legendary'  character  here  described  by  himself. 
Nothing  could  be  more  open  and  friendly  than  his 
manner,  which  at  once  set  his  youngest  and  most 
insignificant  visitor  at  ease ;  his  voice  was  in  itself  a 
cordial,  and  neither  age  nor  sorrow  ever  dimmed  the 


VI  NOTE  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 

brightness  of  his  eye  or  diminished  the  vivacity  of  his 
mind.  In  the  words  of  M.  de  Tocqueville,  '  Guizot  is 
always  charming.  He  has  an  aplomb,  an  ease,  a  verve 
—  arising  from  his  security  that  whatever  he  says 
will  interest  and  amuse.  He  is  a  perfect  picture 
of  an  ex-statesman  —  homme  de  lettres  et  pere  de 
famille  —  falling  back  on  literature  and  the  domestic 
affections.' 

It  is  with  great  diffidence  that  I  offer  this  English 
translation  to  the  public.  I  cannot  hope  that  it  does 
justice  to  the  grace  and  spirit  of  the  original  which  is 
so  evidently  written  with  the  pen  of  love.  Still  I 
hope  that  its  substance  has  been  preserved,  and  that 
some  readers  may  be  grateful  for  this  imperfect  ver- 
sion of  Madame  de  Witt's  charming  book. 

M.  C.  M.  S. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    Childhood  and  Early  Education      ....  1 

II.     Law  Studies  and  Rkligious  Oi'inions    ...  11 

III.  Literary  and  Social  Occupations     ....  20 

IV.  Courtship  and  Marriage 33 

V.     Entrance  into  Public  Life 46 

VI.     Literary    Occupations    of    M.   and    Madame 

GuizoT 61 

VII.     Domestic     Happiness  —  Death     of    Madame 

Pauline    Goizot 80 

VIIL    His  Lectures  —  His  Second  Marriage  .    .    .  'J2 
IX.     Renewed    Happiness  —  He    re-enters   Public 

Life 1 03 

X.     Political  Vicissitudes  —  The  Cholera      .     .  123 
XI.     Public  Education — Death  of  Madame  Elisa 

GuizoT 139 

XII.    Val-Riciier  —  Death  of  Fran(;ois  Guizot      .  158 
Xin.     Death   of  the   Duchesse   de  Broglie — Let- 
ters to  his  Children 181 

XIV.     Embassy    in     England  —  Interest     in    Val- 

Eicher 193 


\lii  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XV.    Madame  Guizot  —  Life  in  England    .     .     .     209 
XVI.     Return  to  France  —  He  accepts  the  For- 
eign Office 224 

XVII.     Revolution  —  Exile  —  Death    of  Madame 

Guizot 241 

XVIII.     Return  from  Exile  —  The  Coup  d'etat      .     263 
XIX.     Literary  Work  —  Pleasure  in  his  Grand- 
children     284 

XX.     Visit    to    England  —  Demolition     of    his 

House 308 

XXI.     His  'Memoirs'  and  'Meditations'  ....     319 

XXII.     Finishes  his  Two  Works  —  Franco-German 

War 328 

XXHI.     Death    of    his    Younger    Daughter  —  His 

Last  Illness  and  Death 347 


Index 359 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTEATIOl^S. 


PAGE 

Gdizot Frontispiece 

The  Reign  of  Terrok 4 

The  Revolution 10 

M.  Necker 36 

roter-collard 4g 

Madame  Pauline  Guizot 80 

Madame  Eliza  Guizot 100 

Chateaubriand 106 

Casimir  Perier 112 

Charles  X 120 

Laffitte 124 

Louis  Philippe  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville 132 

La  Fayette 138 

Marshal  Soult     142 

Guizot  ^t.  45 158 

Francois  Guizot 168 

M.  Mole 180 

Chateau  of  Fontainebleau 186 

M.  Thiers 194 

Val  Richer 208 


X  LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PAGE 

WiNDSOE  Castle 218 

Sir  Robert  Peel 238 

Madame  Guizot  (Mother  of  M.  Guizot) 25G 

Louis  Philippe , 273 

Lord  Aberdeen 310 

La  Reine  Amelie 328 

Le  Due  de  Broglie 334 

GmzoT  iET.  80  Years 350 


MONSIEUR    GUIZOT 

IN  PRIVATE  LIFE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

1787-1805. 

CHILDHOOD   AND    EARLY   EDUCATION. 

Fkancois-Piekre-Guillaume  Guizot  was  born  at 
Nimes  on  the  fourth  of  October,  1787.  Both  his 
father  and  mother  belonged  to  old  Protestant 
families  which  during  the  religious  persecutions 
furnished  several  pastors  to  the  Desert* 

They  were  both  young,  and  tenderly  attached  to 
each  other.  Madame  Guizot  (Sophie-Elisabeth 
Bonicel),  clever,  pretty,  lively,  fond  of  music  and 
dancing,  and  excelling  in  both,  obstinately  refused 
to  marry  —  according  to  the  fashion  of  those  days. 


*  '  To  retire  to  the  Desert '  meant,  in  the  language  used  of  the 
Port-Royalists,  to  shut  oneself  up  in  a  narrow  retreat. 

'  To  go  to  hear  God's  words  in  the  Desert '  was  the  expression 
used  hy  the  Protestants  when,  after  the  revocation  of  the  Edict 
of  Nantes,  they  assembled  in  out-of-the-way  and  desert  places  to 
hear  their  preachers,  who  were  interdicted  under  severe  penalties. 
(From  Littre's  Dictionary.)  —  Tr. 

1 


2  MOXSIEUR   GUIZOT   Ilf    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

and  sometimes,  even,  of  our  own  —  for  the  sake  of 
family  or  fortune.  She  often  used  to  tell,  laug-hingly, 
of  a  persevering  suitor,  whom  she  finally  got  rid  of 
by  singing  to  him  a  ballad  of  the  time :  — 

'  If  ever  I  take  a  husband 
It  must  be  from  the  hands  of  love.' 

Mademoiselle  Bonicel  was  one-and-twenty,  and 
M.  Andre-Francois  Guizot  had  attained  the  same  age, 
when  they  were  married  on  the  twenty-seventh  of 
December,  1786,  by  a  pastor  whose  ministry  was 
still  proscribed.  M.  de  Rulhieres  and  M.  de  Male- 
sherbes  had  long  been  pleading  the  cause  of  the 
French  Protestants.  M.  de  la  Fayette  joined  his 
efforts  to  theirs.  In  the  Assembly  of  Notables  he 
had  the  honour  of  supporting  the  proposed  measure 
for  granting  civil  rights  to  Protestants.  M.  de 
Calonne,  prime  minister  of  Louis  XVI.  at  that  time, 
introduced  it,  and  the  Parliament  urged  its  adoption. 
At  length,  in  the  month  of  December,  1787,  a  royal 
edict  secured  to  the  French  Protestants  their  elemen- 
tary rights ;  but  the  measure  was  not  retroactive, 
and  the  birth  of  M.  Guizot  was  never  legally 
registered. 

The  long-endured  sufferings  of  the  Protestants 
naturally  aroused  their  ardent  sympathy  in  favour 
of  the  reforming  movement  which  had  obtained  their 
liberty.  Andre-Francois  Guizot,  already  a  well- 
known  and  distiniruished  advocate,  followed  the 
same  impulse  as  his  co-religionists :  he  took  an 
active  part  in  political  meetings,  Avhere  his  brilliant 
eloquence  soon  attracted  attention. 


CHILDHOOD    AXD    EARLY    EDUCATION.  6 

My  grandmother,  during  her  long  and  faithful 
widowhood,  often  said  to  her  son,  after  he  had  taken 
his  place  among  the  great  oi'ators  of  his  country  : 
'  You  inherit  your  talents  from  your  father ;  if  he 
had  lived  he  would  have  become  celebrated.' 

But  soon  these  generous  hopes  were  disappointed. 
The  consciences  of  all  honest  men  were  disturbed ; 
and  many  who  had  entered  joyfully  upon  the  new 
path,  found  themselves  obliged  to  stop  or  to  retrace 
their  steps  :  the  Revolution  fell  into  the  hands  of  the 
Jacobins.  The  Reign  of  Terror  began  throughout 
France ;  it  was  felt  most  cruelly  in  the  south,  and 
those  who  sought  to  oppose  its  force  soon  became  its 
victims.  For  several  weeks  in  danger  of  his  life,  a 
fugitive  from  one  asylum  to  another,  protected  by 
the  devotion  of  a  few  friends,  Andre-Francois  Guizot 
was  at  length  arrested.  The  gendai'me  who  dis- 
covered his  retreat  had  long  known  him  — he  was  in 
despair.  '  Shall  I  let  you  escape  ? '  he  said  to  his 
prisoner.  'Are  you  married  ?  '  was  the  quick  re- 
sponse. '  Yes,'  said  the  gendarme,  '  I  have  two 
children.'  'And  so  have  I,' returned  his  prisoner; 
'  but  you  would  have  to  pay  for  me  —  let  us  go  on  ! ' 
A  few  days  after  M.  Guizot  died  on  the  scaffold.  At 
the  moment  when  his  sentence  was  pronounced,  he 
recognised  in  the  revolutionary  tribunal  some  men 
that  he  had  formerly  known,  and  called  on  them  to 
appear  in  tlieir  turn  before  the  judgment-seat  of  God. 
More  than  one  of  his  judges  Avas  made  uneasy  by 
liis  eloquence. 

One  consolation  only  remained  to  his  wife  in  the 


4  MONSIEUR    GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

calamity  which  ruined  her  life  for  ever.  From  the 
prison  in  which  he  had  been  confined  for  several 
days,  Andre-Fi-an^ois  Guizot  wrote  to  her  a  long 
and  tender  lettei",  somewhat  tinged  Avith  the  exag-ofe- 
ration  of  the  period,  but  nevertheless  simple  and 
courageous,  like  the  heart  which  dictated  it  and  the 
one  to  which  it  was  addi-essed.  Madame  Guizot  was 
ill,  and  not  able  to  see  her  husband  again :  his 
children  alone  bade  him  farewell. 

At  her  death,  which  took  place  in  England  on  the 
thirty -first  of  March,  1848,  on  the  morrow  of  another 
revolution,  that  exhausted  the  last  remnant  of  her 
strength,  she  mnrmured,  in  a  A'oice  still  firm,  in  spite 
of  her  weakness,  '  I  am  going  to  join  him  ! '  And 
those  who  paid  the  last  duties  to  her  remains,  found 
upon  her  heart  the  farewell  letter  of  the  husband 
whom  she  had  so  exclusively  and  devotedly  loved. 

The  prisoner's  two  children  were  brought  to  him 
at  the  '  House  of  Justice.'  The  elder,  Frangois,  was 
only  six  and  a  half  years  old ;  his  brother,  Jean- 
Jacques,  was  tAVO  years  younger.  The  remembrance 
of  their  father's  person  became  gradually  effaced, 
there  was  no  portrait  to  fix  it  in  their  memory.  My 
father,  however,  recollected  his  visit  to  the  prison, 
and  still  more  distinctly  the  day  when  the  news  of 
Robespierre's  fall  reached  Nimes.  Madame  Guizot 
was  with  her  children  on  the  terrace  of  her  house, 
and  she  knelt  down  Avitli  them  to  thank  God  for 
the  deliverance  of  France.  Since  the  fatal  day  of 
her  bereavement  the  young  widow  had  not  once 
appeared  in  the  street.     Mourning  was  forbidden  to 


CniLDHOOD   AND    EARLY    EDUCATIOX.  O 

the  relations  of  the  victims  —  so  many  black  gar- 
ments would  have  betrayed  the  ravages  of  the  Eeign 
of  Terror. 

From  that  time  Madame  Guizot's  life  belonged 
entirely  to  her  children.  Her  husband  had  asked 
her  to  live  for  their  sake ;  she  lived,  therefore,  but 
the  indelible  imjiression  of  her  grief  never  faded 
from  her  mind.  For  a  long  time  the  sorrow  which 
overwhelmed  her  weighed  even  upon  her  sons. 
Her  passionate  nature  spent  all  its  strength  in  the 
effort  to  endure  her  pain.  The  soft  liveliness  and 
gay  vivacity  which  had  distinguished  her  in  early 
life,  and  which  at  times  came  back  in  the  calm  of 
old  age,  were  succeeded  by  a  certain  austerity.  '  I 
shed  so  many  tears,'  she  used  to  say,  '  in  my  little 
room.  They  say  that  weeping  spoils  the  eyes  —  I 
ought  to  have  become  blind  ! '  Her  listeners  looked 
with  tender  astonishment  at  her  beautiful  eyes,  still 
brilliant  and  penetrating  as  they  had  been  in  youth. 
'  Yes,'  she  would  rejDly,  Avith  a  smile,  '  I  have  in- 
deed wept  much.' 

She  had  not  forgotten  her  tears,  when,  forty-six 
years  later,  on  her  son's  birthday  (he  was  then  'am- 
bassador in  England),  she  wrote :  '  I  slept  little  last 
night,  my  dear  son.  My  thoughts  kept  me  wide 
awake,  and  I  did  not  try  to  banish  them.  I  was 
with  you.  I  went  back  to  the  date  of  the  fourth 
of  October,  1787,  to  that  day  beginning  with  great 
physical  suffering,  ending  in  such  exquisite,  deeply- 
felt  joy,  both  to  me  and  to  your  excellent  father, 
who  was  as  tender  to  his  children  as  you  are  to 


6  MONSIEUR    GUIZOT    IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

yours.  I  think  I  see  him  now,  carrying  you  in  his 
arms  to  my  bedside,  agitated,  his  eyes  full  of  tears 
as  he  said  to  me,  "  Here  is  our  son,  we  shall  love 
him  dearly,  shall  we  not  I  and  our  happiness  will  be 
greater  than  ever."  I  love  to  repeat  to  you  these 
words  with  which  every  day  of  his  life,  I  can  attest, 
was  in  accordance.  A  noble,  elevated,  loving  soul, 
an  excellent  enlightened  understanding  —  such  was 
the  husband  whom  God  bestowed  on  me,  my  child, 
and  I  fully  appreciated  his  worth.  Alas !  the  days 
of  misery  soon  came  to  overwhelm  me,  and  it  was 
with  difficulty,  with  great  difficulty,  that  I  resigned 
myself  to  God's  will.  I  had  promised  my  beloved 
to  live  for  our  children,  to  supply  to  them  his  place 
as  well  as  my  own,  and  all  my  energy  Avith  God's 
help  has  been  devoted  to  this  task,  —  a  long  and  hard 
one  for  my  poor  broken  and  often  failing  heart,  — 
but  the  impression  of  my  sufferings  has  never  worn 
away,  any  more  than  that  of  the  happiness  which 
was  once  mine.  The  remembrance  of  that  happi- 
ness has  remained  alive  in  my  heart  of  hearts,  it 
has  been  associated  with  all  my  joys  and  sorrows, 
and  it  has  often  helped  me  in  bearing  the  burthen 
of  existence. 

'  My  dear  son,  this  was  the  first  part  of  my  long 
life ;  during  the  second  your  trials  have  been  added 
to  my  own,  I  have  shared  them  all.  You  may,  per- 
haps, not  always  have  known  how  great  was  my  love, 
but  I  do  not  think  that  any  love  could  be  greater. 
I  say  this  without  any  pride,  but  with  humility  and 
gratitude ;  for  I  owe  this  o-ift  of  loving  to  God,  who 


ClIILDnOOD   AND    EARLY    EDUCATIOX.  7 

has  bestowed  it  on  me  so  generously  that  even  now, 
in  my  old  age,  the  spring  lias  not  yet  dried  up. 
Your  dear  children  have  found  me  as  young  and  as 
loving  as  if  I  were  only  twenty.  I  bless  God  for  it 
with  all  ray  heart.  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you  of 
your  father.  I  have,  perhaps,  done  so  too  seldom, 
but  I  yielded  to  circumstances  —  you  knew  so  little 
of  him.  And  yet  yoi;  are  like  him  in  many  respects, 
and  every  time  that  I  detect  this  resemblance  it  is  to 
me  a  source  of  tender  consolation.  But  what  more 
can  I  now  add  to  what  I  have  already  said?  That  I 
earnestly  pray  for  you,  that  I  implore  our  heavenly 
Father  to  guard  you  —  all  this  you  know,  my  dear 
son ;  at  nine  o'clock,  when  the  children  are  dressed, 
we  will  all  four  pray  together,  and  each  one  will 
offer  his  own  little  prayer  in  his  own  way.' 

The  passionate  devotion  which  inspired  the  whole 
life  of  Madame  Guizot  claimed  her  energies  at  the 
moment  when  the  most  terrible  grief  had  taken  pos- 
session of  her  soul.  All  around  her  was  nothing 
but  suffering.  Her  mother  had  fifteen  children,  of 
whom  she  was  the  eldest ;  several  died  in  infancy ; 
two  daughters,  one  in  the  flower  of  her  youth,  the 
other,  almost  a  child,  died  during  those  bitter  days, 
shattered  by  the  violent  convulsions  which  agitated 
at  that  time  every  life.  M.  Guizot  remembered  his 
young  aunts,  and  the  void  created  in  the  house  by 
their  death. 

My  father  and  his  brothei's,  however,  did  not  suf- 
fer; they  yielded  a  willing  obedience  to  their  mother's 
authority,  even  taking  her  part  against  the  weak  in- 


8  MONSIEUR    GUIZOT    IS   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

dulgence  of  their  grand  parents.  An  extraordinary 
power  of  command  became  henceforth  the  princi- 
pal feature  in  Madame  Guizot's  character ;  she  exer- 
cised it  with  all  the  ardour  of  a  strong  mind  sorely 
stricken  but  rigidly  bracing  itself  to  endure  the 
weight  of  sorrow  and  responsibility.  The  education 
of  her  children  was  her  principal  occupation ;  France 
at  that  time  offered  few  resources ;  among  the  vague 
projects  which  passed  through  the  minds  of  the 
chiefs  of  the  Revolution,  public  instruction  had 
held  a  place  more  apparent  tlian  real,  and  the  cen- 
tral schools  established  in  several  directions  failed 
to  answer  the  end  they  had  in  view.  Madame 
Guizot  resolved  to  leave  everything  in  order  to 
seek  at  Geneva  the  means  of  education  which  were 
wanting  at  Nimes. 

It  is  a  distinguishing  feature  in  the  work  of  Cal- 
vin that  every  institution  founded  by  him  has  with- 
stood, in  a  remarkable  degree,  the  effects  of  time. 
In  1799,  when  Madame  Guizot  arrived  at  Geneva 
with  her  two  children,  and  accompanied  by  her 
father,  who  was  anxious  to  settle  her  in  lier  new 
abode,  she  found  tlie  Gymnasium  and  the  Auditories, 
as  they  were  called,  conducted  in  the  same  way  as 
they  were  in  the  sixteenth  century,  under  the  pow- 
erful influence  of  their  founder. 

Madame  Guizot's  education,  like  that  of  most  of 
the  young  girls  of  tliat  period,  had  been  somewhat 
superficial.  She  had,  however,  the  good  fortune  to 
meet  in  her  early  youth  with  an  intelligent  teacher, 
who  insj)ired  her  with  an  ardent  love  for  learning, 


CHILDHOOD    AND    EARLY    EDUCATION.  9 

the  traces  of  which  I'emained  to  the  very  end  of  her 
hfe.  She  was  also  animated  by  a  firm  resolution  to 
cultivate  in  her  sons,  especially  the  elder  one,  the 
natural  gifts  which  were  already  perceptible.  Fran- 
cois Guizot  was  eleven  years  old  when  his  mother 
established  herself  at  Geneva ;  but  he  was  hardly 
six  when  his  mother  found  him  one  day  standing 
on  the  ledge  of  the  bookcase  passionately  declaim- 
ing the  imprecations  of  Camille,*  which  had  cap- 
tivated his  imagination.  He  did  not,  however, 
preserve  any  very  definite  recollections  of  his  child- 
hood and  his  early  studies ;  the  strong  Avill  and  ab- 
solute direction  of  his  mother  entirely  absorbed  his 
existence. 

Madame  Guizot  established  herself  in  a  small 
house  opposite  to  the  one  inhabited  by  the  Professor 
■who  directed  the  education  of  her  sons ;  she  was 
present  at  all  their  lessons,  she  took  part  in  all  their 
work,  she  studied  for  and  with  her  children ;  some- 
times in  the  winter  when  the  severe  climate  of 
Geneva  covered  their  little  hands  with  chilblains  the 
mother  wrote  their  exercises  from  their  dictation. 
My  father  preserved  several  copybooks  thus  written. 

They  led  a  hard  and  simple  life.  Madame  Gui- 
zot's  small  fortune  suffered  from  the  disturbed  state 
of  France ;  the  system  of '  assignats '  had  diminished 
the  resources  of  the  country.  The  mother  resolved 
to  devote  all  she  had  to  the  education  of  her  chil- 
dren.    Their  table  was  plainly  served :     Madame 


Corneille's  tragedy,  Les  Horaces.  —  Tb. 


10  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

Guizot  had  no  assistance  in  the  household  work, 
except  that  of  a  woman  who  came  in  for  a  few  hours 
every  day ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  her  sons  attended 
the  lectures  of  the  best  professors ;  they  took  lessons 
in  riding,  swimming,  and  drawing;  at  the  same 
time  she  made  them  learn  a  ti'ade,  in  accordance 
Avith  the  teaching  of  Rousseau,  to  which  the  violent 
si  locks  sustained  by  French  society  during  the 
Revolution  had  given  practical  influence.  Francois 
Guizot  became  a  skilful  joiner,  and  excelled  in 
turning. 

Year  after  year  went  by,  actively  and  usefully 
employed,  so  austerely  devoted  to  work  and  duty, 
that  M.  Guizot's  mind  never  lost  the  impression  it 
then  received.  His  mother  seldom  left  her  home  ; 
she  could  not  bear  society.  Music,  which  she  had 
once  passionately  loved,  was  now  painful  to  her  — 
even  in  church  she  could  not  bear  it :  the  art,  how- 
ever, retained  so  great  an  influence  over  her  that 
when,  towards  the  end  of  her  life,  she  was  present 
at  a  concert  at  the  Ministere  des  Affaires  Etrangires, 
in  which  the  artists  from  the  '  Conservatoire '  took 
part,  her  nerves  were  shaken  for  several  days.  Now 
and  then  during  the  summer  she  accompanied  her 
sons  in  their  excursions  round  the  Lake  of  Geneva  ; 
the  extreme  beauty  of  the  scenery  exercised  a  soft 
and  powerful  influence  over  her  mind.  This  sort  of 
enjoyment  never  ceased  to  please  and  to  soothe  her. 
At  the  age  of  eighty  her  eyes  would  sparkle  at  the 
sight  of  a  new  wild  flower. 


•'^J^-'^J' 


ftfl»«. 


1  P'^ 


1^4 


.,  1  i.  Bill  it 


,,,„,--»iB?ii|||":- 


CHAPTER  II. 

1805-9. 

LAW   STUDIES   AND   RELIGIOUS    OPINIONS. 

In  1805  M.  Guizot's  education  was  finished,  as  far 
as  an  education  can  be  finished  at  the  age  of  eigh- 
teen. His  mother  enjoyed  his  success,  with  all  the 
intensity  of  her  passionate  heart. 

She  had  known  him  so  absorbed  in  his  work  that 
his  companions  in  vain  attempted  to  divert  his  atten- 
tion by  all  sorts  of  practical  jokes.  It  was  one  of 
their  chief  amusements  to  pull  his  hair  or  pinch  his 
arms,  withovxt  ever  succeeding  in  making  him  raise 
his  eyes.  More  than  once  his  coat-tails  had  re- 
mained in  the  hands  of  his  persecutors.  Yet  it  was 
only  after  he  had  entered  the  philosophical  school, 
in  the  last  year  of  his  sojourn  at  Geneva,  that  the 
young  man  awakened  to  the  sense  of  his  own  pow- 
ers —  of  his  personal  existence.  '  My  recollections 
go  back  no  further,'  M.  Guizot  was  in  the  habit  of 
saying ;  '  it  was  then  only  that  I  began  to  live.'  He 
preserved  all  his  abstracts  of  M.  Peschier's  course  of 
lectures. 

Tlie  time  had  come  for  a  cruel  separation. 
Madame  Guizot  returned  to  her  parents  at  Nimes, 


12  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

in  the  course  of  the  summer  of  1805.  She  pre- 
served the  companionship  of  her  second  son,  but 
the  elder  was  obliged  to  go  to  Paris  to  commence 
his  law  studies,  accompanied  by  one  of  his  fellow- 
students,  who  became  a  faithful  and  life-long  friend 
—  M.  Achille  de  Daunant. 

M.  Guizot  had  a  taste  for  literature,  poetry,  and 
the  serious  branches  of  learning ;  he  soon  exhibited 
a  decided  turn  for  politics.*'  Neither  the  one  nor  the 
other  of  these  inclinations  pleased  his  mother,  who 
did  not  consider  literature  as  a  serious  career,  and 
who  regarded  politics  with  the  terror  of  a  wife  whose 
husband  had  fallen  a  victim  to  the  Revolution.  He 
was,  therefore,  to  be  an  advocate,  like  his  father. 
He  studied  law  conscientiously,  but  without  taking 
pleasure  in  it.  Moreover,  his  life  was  a  sad  one  in 
other  respects,  and  his  isolation  Aveighed  upon  him 
heavily.  He  frequently  wrote  to  his  mother  long 
letters,  marked  private,  which  were  not,  like  his 
other  letters,  to  be  communicated  to  the  rest  of  the 
family. 

On  the  twentieth  of  November,  1806,  he  attained 
the  age  of  nineteen  :  his  temperament  Avas  melan- 
choly and  his  will  determined,  he  was  as  austere  in 
his  opinions  as  in  his  conduct. 

In  the  early  days  of  the  Empire,  and  while  the 
license  permitted  during  the  Directory  had  still  left 
its  traces  everywhere,  he  wrote  to  Madame  Guizot : 

'  I  sent  oif  a  long  letter  to  you  this  morning,  my 
dear  mother,  and  this  evening  I  feel  tliat  I  must 
write  to  you  again  :  this  quiet  and  solitary  life  leaves 


LAW   STUDIES    AJ^^D    RELIGIOUS    OPINIONS.  13 

me  abundant  time  for  reflection ;  my  ideas  are  no 
longer  scattered,  and  my  convictions  strengthen  by 
concentration.  If  I  did  not  write  to  you  I  should 
be  restless  and  unhappy.  You  are  the  only  person 
to  whom  I  can  open  my  mind  without  fear  ;  if  I  can, 
I  shall  write  to  you  every  day,  and  I  will  send  oft 
my  letters  every  week  in  a  single  packet. 

*  You  will  see  in  them  a  faithful  picture  of  my 
thoughts  and  opinions  ;  you  may,  perhaps,  find  in 
them  apparent,  sometimes  even  real,  inconsistencies. 
Do  not  be  surprised :  I  know  nothing  more  uncertain 
than  the  human  mind,  and  if  a  man  had  not  some 
steadfast  principles  to  cling  to  from  time  to  time, 
he  could  not  reckon  for  a  single  instant  upon  his 
actions  or  his  desires. 

'  I  possess  these  rallying  points,  and  I  consider 
this  to  be  a  great  happiness  ;  God  and  tlie  religion 
of  Christ  are  my  guides  ;  Moral  Law  is  the  law 
to  which  I  would  refer  every  question.  I  look 
upon  every  temptation  to  step  aside  as  a  danger, 
and  I  disregard  every  path  which  does  not  lead 
me  back  to  the  right  road.  I  have  one  quality 
which  is,  perhaps,  favourable  to  my  principles, 
although  it  is  often  reviled  by  the  world  —  obsti- 
nacy. I  may  be  wrong,  but  whenever  I  think  that  I 
am  right,  the  whole  universe  has  no  influence  upon 
my  opinions  ;  to  change  them  I  must  be  convinced 
that  I  am  wrong,  so  that  I  am  always  obliged  to  be 
in  earnest,  and  I  hope  that  I  shall  never  fail  in  this 
respect.  I  never  put  forward  my  opinions  unless  I 
think  them  better  than  those  of  others,  and  this  I 


14  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

daresay  gives  me  the  appearance  of  pride.  It  may 
indeed  be  only  through  pride  that  I  carefully  avoid 
all  discussion  with  those  who  do  not  seem  to  me  to 
share,  in  reality,  my  opinions :  there  is  a  want  of 
candour  in  arguing  when  one  is  determined  not  to 
ioin  the  ranks  of  one's  opponents  ;  in  short,  I  always 
intend  to  hold  fast,  and  to  proclaim  openly,  my 
principles  of  morality,  of  religion,  and  of  virtue.  I 
found  that  I  had  sensibly  weakened  them  by  mak- 
ing some  concessions  which  were  recommended  to 
me ;  I  began  to  consider  my  steadfastness  as  exag- 
gerated, and  I  was  beginning  to  howl  with  the 
wolves.  I  wish  to  preserve  myself  from  this  con- 
tagion, even  if  I  should  fall  into  extreme  severity. 
It  is  less  hurtful  to  my  character  than  extreme 
weakness. 

'  As  all  things  diminish  and  become  weaker  with 
time,  the  man  who  at  twenty  professes  the  doctrines 
of  Epicurus  will  have  neither  principles  nor  vigour 
left  at  fifty  ;  it  was  reserved  for  the  century  which 
professed  extreme  sensibility  to  set  forth  as  maxims 
the  cowardly  and  effeminate  opinions  which  destroy 
morality  on  pretence  of  softening  manners  —  and  to 
worship  as  divine  a  love  without  energy  ;  by  trying 
to  make  virtue  wear  a  perpetual  smile  all  strength 
has  been  taken  out  of  it ;  the  age  was  so  amiable 
that  it  could  not  be  virtuous  ;  people  were  so  polite 
that  they  left  off  being  sincere ;  women  were  so 
much  courted  that  they  ceased  to  be  loved ;  they 
had  been  so  much  flattered  that  it  was  necessary  to 
grow  like  them  in  order  to  please  them ;  tenderness 


LAW   STUDIES    AND   RELIGIOUS    OPINIONS.  15 

was  everything,  every  sentiment  that  was  not  ten- 
der was  banished.  The  charms  of  virtue  were  no 
lono-er  felt  in  this  sentimental  mania ;  the  very  name 
of  duty  terrified  these  polite  sybarites ;  indepen- 
dence was  their  God,  yet  they  themselves  hung  upon 
a  word  or  a  smile,  and  were  the  slaves  of  their  least 
desires  as  of  their  most  trifling  annoyances.  I 
cannot  help  being  indignant  Avhen  I  think  of  the 
perpetual  efforts  they  made  to  remove  all  the  thorns 
from  virtue  :  they  could  not  rise  to  her  level,  so 
they  tried  to  pull  her  down  to  their  own  ;  they  no 
longer  possessed  the  courage  to  overcome  obstacles, 
and  convenient  morahsts  undertook  to  smoothe  over 
difficulties  in  order  to  tranquillise  timid  consciences. 
Let  us  leave  to  virtue  all  her  difficulties,  and  at  the 
same  time  let  us  redouble  our  efforts  to  conquer 
them :  there  are  many  brambles  on  the  road  to 
heaven  —  the  path  which  leads  thither  is  not  strewn 
with  flowers.' 

It  was  the  remembrance  of  the  inflexibility  of  his 
early  youth,  and  of  the  benefit  which  he  derived 
from  it,  which  made  M.  Guizot,  in  later  life,  indulgent 
to  young  people  whose  gravity  was  beyond  their 
years,  when  he  heard  them  blamed  for  their  naiTOW- 
ness  and  intolerance.  '  Let  them  alone,'  he  used  to 
say,  *  they  have  plenty  of  time  to  lower  their  tone.' 
In  less  than  two  years  from  this  time  the  young  man, 
although  still  imbued  with  the  same  aspirations  and 
resolutions,  seemed  to  have  a  juster  appreciation  of 
the  weakness  of  human  nature  and  of  the  absolute 
necessity  for  divine  aid.     He  wrote  to  his  mother  on 


16  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT    IN    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

the  fourth  of  January,  1809:  'I  know  not  wliy  I 
am  so  serious,  I  might  say  almost  sad,  to-day.  Few 
days  are  to  my  mind  so  solemn  as  the  one  that  be- 
gins the  new  year.  When  we  look  back  upon  the 
year  which  has  just  passed  away,  we  find  that  it  has 
been  for  us  so  different  from  what  it  ought  to  have 
been,  so  full  of  faults  —  perhaps  serious  faults  —  that 
it  is  impossible  not  to  tremble  for  the  one  about  to 
follow.  The  weakness  of  our  resolutions,  our  vacil- 
lations of  purpose,  distress  and  sometimes  frighten 
me.  The  older  I  grow  the  more  I  feel  how  essential 
is  religion  to  give  man  the  energy  and  love  of  good- 
ness which  he  needs.  I  am  convinced  that  without 
religion,  without  the  continual  help  of  God,  man  can 
never  succeed  in  Aviping  out  the  original  stain  which 
defiles  his  nature,  nor  attain  to  the  holiness  and 
purity  Avliich  ought  to  be  in  him  who  would  worship 
God  in  spirit  and  in  truth.  The  idea  that  the 
moment  in  which  we  commit  a  fault  escapes  and 
carries  away  its  consequences  beyond  the  possibility 
of  recall,  is  terrible  ;  it  would  be  enough  to  paralyse 
our  faculties,  if  faith  did  not  in  a  measure  restore 
our  confidence.  It  is  like  passing  from  Hell  to 
Heaven  when  we  leave  the  spectacle  of  our  weak- 
ness and  our  faults,  to  contemplate  in  Jesus  Christ 
the  model  of  what  God  intended  man  to  become. 
It  is  delightful  to  think  of  this  ideal  of  human  per- 
fection ;  it  fills  without  agitating,  humbles  without 
overwhelming,  the  human  heart,  and  gives  us  at 
the  same  time  strength,  courage,  consolation,  and 
hope. 


LAW   STUDIES    AND    RELIGIOUS    OPINIONS.  17 

'  I  know  of  no  enjoyment  so  great  as  that  of  med- 
itating on  the  divine  character  of  Christ  —  on  the 
goodness  of  God  in  giving  it  to  man  to  be  a  lamp 
unto  liis  feet  and  a  light  unto  his  path.  Weary  of 
the  vices,  the  errors,  the  degradation  it  meets  in 
every  direction,  the  soul  turns  with  inexpressible 
happiness  to  the  beloved  Saviour,  stained  by  no 
vice,  misled  by  no  error,  untouched  by  any  imper- 
fection. I  will  not  allow  myself  to  enlarge  upon 
this  subject ;  it  is  for  me  an  abundant  source  of 
thought  and  feeling,  and  I  dare  not  in  the  attempt 
to  express  it  plunge  into  that  ocean  of  beauty  and 
perfection,  the  fulness  of  which  dwells  in  God  alone. 
But  wliat  I  rejoice  in  telling  you,  because  I  rejoice 
in  feeling  it,  is  this,  —  that  every  year  confirms  my 
convictions  and  my  hopes,  every  new  thing  that 
I  learn  strengthens  my  faith  in  Christ's  Gospel.  I 
have  never  been  ashamed  to  acknowledge  this,  and 
I  never  shall  be.  It  is  inconceivable  that  we  should 
not  dare  to  own  how  powerfully  our  being  is  pene- 
trated and  influenced  by  the  Divine  Image.  The 
strongest  proof  of  the  degradation  of  man  is  that  he 
has  sometimes  blushed  to  acknowledge  that  the 
source  of  all  his  happiness  and  his  glory  ought  to 
be  in  Jesus  Christ.' 

Sixty-four  years  later,  in  the  month  of  December, 
1873,  M.  Guizot  began  his  will  by  a  declaration  of 
his  religious  belief,  and  expressed  strongly  and 
briefly  the  results  of  the  experience  of  his  long  life, 
which  confirmed  the  blessed  hopes  of  early  youth. 


18  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

'I  have  examined,  I  have  doubted,  I  have  be- 
lieved that  the  human  mind  had  power  enough  to 
solve  the  problems  presented  by  man  and  by  the 
univei'se,  and  that  the  human  will  had  force  enough 
to  regulate  human  life  according  to  the  dictates  of 
law  and  morality.  After  a  long  life  spent  in  thought 
and  action  I  became,  and  I  am  still,  convinced  that 
neither  the  universe  is  competent  to  regulate  its  own 
movements,  nor  man  to  govern  his  own  destiny,  by 
means  only  of  the  permanent  laws  by  which  they 
are  ordered.  It  is  my  profound  conviction  that  God, 
Who  created  the  universe  and  man,  governs,  pre- 
serves, and  modifies  them  either  by  the  action  of 
general  laws,  which  we  call  natural,  or  by  special 
acts  which  we  call  supernatural,  and  which,  as  well 
as  the  general  laws,  are  the  emanations  of  His  free 
and  perfect  wisdom  and  His  infinite  power  ;  we  are 
permitted  to  discern  them  in  their  effects,  and  for- 
bidden to  understand  them  in  their  essence  and 
design.  I  have  therefore  returned  to  the  faith  of 
my  childhood.  I  am  still  firmly  attached  to  the  use 
of  my  reason  and  to  the  free  will  which  are  my 
gifts  from  God,  and  my  birthright  and  my  title  of 
honour  upon  earth,  yet  I  have  learned  to  feel  my- 
self a  child  in  the  hands  of  God,  and  sincerely 
resigned  to  my  large  share  of  ignorance  and  weak- 
ness. 

'I  believe  in  God  and  worship  Him  without 
attempting  to  understand  Him.  I  see  His  presence 
and  His  action  not  only  in  the  unchangeable  law  of 
the  universe  and  in  the  secret  life  of  the  soul,  but  in 


LAW    STUDIES    AND    RELIGIOUS    OPINIONS.  19 

the  history  of  human  society ;  and  especially  in  the 
Old  and  New  Testament  —  those  records  of  revela- 
tion and  of  the  Divine  action  in  the  mediation  and 
sacrifice  of  our  Lord  Jesus'  Christ  for  the  salvation 
of  the  human  race.  I  bow  before  tlie  mysteries  of 
the  Bible  and  the  Gospel,  and  I  refrain  from  the 
discussions  and  scientific  solutions  by  means  of 
which  men  have  tried  to  explain  them.  I  have  a 
firm  faith  that  God  allows  me  to  call  myself  a  Chris- 
tian ;  and  I  am  convinced  that  when  I  shall,  as  will 
soon  be  my  lot,  enter  into  the  full  light  of  day,  I 
shall  see  how  purely  human  is  the  origin,  and  how 
vain  are  most  of  the  discussions  in  this  world  con- 
cerning the  things  which  are  divine.' 


CHAPTER  III. 

1809-12. 

LITERARY   AND    SOCIAL    OCCUPATIONS. 

When  in  1809  M.  Guizot  professed  so  openly  his 
belief  in  Christianity,  he  had  for  some  time  been 
subject  to   an   influence  which  was   calculated   to 
strengthen  and  enlighten  his  religious  convictions. 
M.  Stapfer,  formerly  Swiss  Minister  in  Paris,  a  man 
as  learned  as  he  was  excellent,  had  made  a  friend  of 
M.   Guizot,   attracted  to  him    by  his   having  been 
brought  up  at  Geneva,  aud  by  his  earnest  devotion 
to  duty.     M.  Stapfer  pitied  also  the  young  man's 
isolated  position  in  Paris,  and  the  distaste  he  felt  in 
carrying  on   his    difficidt    and    ill-directed    studies. 
M.  Stapfer  was  not  contented  with  giving  the  assist- 
ance of  his  advice  and  experience.     With  a  kind- 
ness that  my  father  never  forgot,  he  took  him  to  his 
home,  introduced  him  to  his  family,  and  admitted 
him  as  a  guest  for  several  months  to  his  country 
house,  Bel-Air,  on  the  outskirts  of  Paris.     M.  Stap- 
fer's  kindness  did  not  stop  here.     He  recognised  in 
M.  Guizot  those  rare  mental  faculties  which  it  is  a 
vain  attempt  to  repress  or  turn  from  their  bent; 


LITERARY   AND    SOCIAL    OCCUPATIONS.  21 

perhaps  the  young  man  had  already  confided  to  him 
the  regret  which  he  felt  so  acutely  when  he  wrote 
to  his  mother  on  the  twenty-third  of  November, 
1806:  — 

'  I  do  not  know  how  I  chanced  to  open  the  drawer 
to  which  I  had  banished  the  first  attempts  of  my 
pen.  I  was  not  able  to  resist  the  temptation  of  read- 
ing some  of  them,  and  it  made  me  sad  to  do  so.  I 
possess  talents,  but  I  cannot  yield  to  their  impulse, 
I  cannot  devote  my  youth  to  studying  the  art  of 
writing,  and  all  that  appertains  to  it,  so  as  to  enable 
me  in  my  riper  years  to  give  free  expression  to  my 
ideas.  I  shall  never  be  able  to  recover  the  time 
which  I  might  have  spent  with  so  much  satisfaction  ; 
it  will  never  come  back.  Must  I  then  be,  in  every 
way,  thwarted  by  circumstances  1  I  was  intended 
by  nature  for  a  distinguished  man  of  letters  ;  I  am 
sometimes  devoured  with  the  longing  to  write  if  it 
were  only  for  myself;  I  am  oppressed  by  my 
thoughts,  and  I  am  continually  occupied  in  resisting 
my  inclinations.  Now  that  I  have  taken  my  resolu- 
tion I  shall  not  go  back  ;  but  I  cannot  always  stifle 
my  regret.  I  ought  to  throw  into  the  fire  all  those 
early  essays,  of  which  the  sight  annoys  me,  but  I 
cannot  make  up  my  mind  to  do  so,  it  irritates  me  to 
look  at  them.  I  feel  drawn  towards  literature  and 
poetry  by  a  charm  which  makes  me  miserable.  Do 
not  fear  that  I  shall  yield  to  it.  I  have  said  good- 
bye to  them  for  a  long  time,  perhaps  for  ever,  but 
do  not  be  angry  if  I  sometimes  speak  to  you  of  the 
fire  that  consumes  me.    I  shall  long  continue  to  suf- 


22  MONSIEUR    GUIZOT   IN    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

fer  from  it.  I  sliould  soon  be  settled  if  I  might  only 
choose  m}^  work  ;  but  all  men  cannot  follow  their 
wishes;  this  happiness  is  reserved  for  the  select  few.' 
Thanks  to  M.  Stapfer,  this  envied  happiness  be- 
came the  lot  of  M.  Guizot.  His  mother  at  last  con- 
sented to  set  him  free  to  devote  himself  to  literary 
work,  and  it  was  under  the  direction  of  this  excel- 
lent friend  that  he  returned  to  the  studies  which  he 
himself  felt  had  been  left  incomplete.  Henceforth 
he  was  happy,  and  his  joy  redoubled  his  diligence. 
'  Since  the  new  year  began,'  he  wrote  to  his  mother 
from  Bel-Air,  on  the  twenty -fifth  of  April,  1808,  'I 
have  only  to  tell  you  of  a  happiness  as  real  and 
delightful  as  it  is  deep  and  lasting ;  how  eagerly  I 
would  close  the  bargain  if  God  would  allow  me  to 
continue  in  the  same  position  all  my  life  long,  with- 
out any  change  !  If  I  could  only  have  you  with  me, 
all  my  desires  would  be  fulfilled ;  I  enjoy  a  happi- 
ness beyond  my  expectations  or  my  hopes  ;  it  is 
without  alloy,  without  effort;  everything  around 
me  suggests  well-being  and  repose.     To-day  I  am 

here  alone  with  the  children.     A is  quite  well 

now,  but  how  anxious  her  poor  mother  was  about 
her  while  we  were  in  Paris  !  However,  God  had 
mercy  on  us.  I  could  not  love  my  own  children 
more  than  I  love  these,  the  bare  idea  of  anything 
happening  to  them  freezes  my  blood,  and  they  am- 
ply return  my  affection,  the  dear  little  ones  are  quite 
happy  with  me,  we  talk,  I  make  them  work  a  little, 
I  tell  them  stories.  The  only  thing  wanting  to  my 
happiness  is  to  have  you  with  nie.' 


LITERARY   AND    SOCIAL    OCCUPATIONS.  23 

A  few  months  later  M.  Guizot  was  absorbed  by- 
various  and  important  works;  he  was  twenty-two 
years  of  age,  and  he  ah-eady  bore  the  salutary  bur- 
then of  necessary  toil,  wiiich  was  to  continue  to  be 
his  portion  always.  '  I  am  grieved  at  not  having 
written  to  you  before,'  he  says  to  his  mother  on  the 
twenty-first  of  January,  1810.  'I  have  been,  and 
am  still,  so  overpowered  with  business  that  I  can 
scarcely  find  time  for  letter-writing.  At  length  I 
made  up  my  mind  to  shut  myself  up  for  ten  days 
entirely  alone  in  the  country.  All  the  family, 
including  the  children,  are  in  Paris ;  and  I  came 
hither  last  night  to  spend  this  week  in  trying  to  get 
on  a  little  with  my  work.  If  you  could  see  for 
yourself  all  that  I  have  to  do,  and  all  that  I  am 
doing,  you  would  not  scold  me  for  being  behind- 
hand in  my  correspondence  with  everyone  but  you. 

'  I  will  give  you  an  accurate  description  of  it :  I 
reckoned  upon  having  plenty  of  time  for  my  Travels 
in  Spain  *  —  not  at  all  —  the  publishers  are  anxious 
to  bring  it  out,  because  the  moment  appears  to  be 
favourable.  I  shall  hurt  their  interests  if  I  am  in 
arrear,  and  I  am  obliged  to  deliver  the  manuscripts 
to  be  printed  very  quickly,  to  say  nothing  of  coi-- 
recting  the  proofs,  which  occasions  always  a  consid- 
erable loss  of  time.     After  this  comes  Gibbon,t  for 


*  My  father  was  translating  at  this  time  a  volume  of  Travels  in 
Spain  by  Eehfus. 

t  These  notes  ou  Gibbon  are  reproduced  in  all  the  recent 
English  editions  of  tlie  work  of  the  great  historian. 


24  MONSIEUR    GUIZOT   IN    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

whicli  Maradan  is  on  his  side  very  pressing,  and 
wliich  ought  to  be  in  a  more  forward  state  ;  I  liave 
promised  two  parts  before  the  fifteenth  of  April,  and 
I  wish  to  keep  my  word ;  I  attach  importance  to 
tliis  work ;  it  is  ah-eady  talked  of,  and  asked  for  in 
Germany.  I  am  told,  both  by  word  and  by  letter, 
that  I  shall  render  a  great  service ;  it  must  be  well 
done,  and  the  task  is  a  long  one,  all  the  more  that 
the  necessary  materials  are  not  all  to  be  found  in 
France.  At  present  I  am  occupied  with  the  history 
of  the  different  heresies.  The  Dictionary  of  Syno- 
nyms is  no  less  pressing,  the  fii-st  part  must  be  fin- 
ished by  the  first  of  April ;  the  time  is  short,  I  am 
beginning  to  work  at  it.  Besides  all  this,  there  is 
the  Mercure,  wliich  I  will  not  give  up.  Le  Breton, 
with  whom  I  breakfasted  last  Thursday,  paid  me  all 
sorts  of  compliments,  seemed  enchanted  with  my 
first  article,  and  asked  me  for  three  or  four  more  as 
quickly  as  possible,  that  he  may  be  able  to  give  me 
a  fixed  position.  I  shall  give  him  three  articles  on 
the  Ancient  History  of  Prussia,  by  Kotzebue,  a  book 
which  has  just  appeai-ed,  and  which  is  not  yet  trans- 
lated ;  and  then  a  biography  of  the  historian  Muller, 
after  which  I  hope  that  my  position  will  be  assured. 
Add  to  these  my  regular  Avork  for  the  newspapers, 
and  lastly,  my  daily  lessons,  and  you  will  see  that 
my  time  is  more  than  filled  up,  that  very  little  of  it 
remains  at  my  own  disposal,  and  that,  in  order  to 
fulfil  my  engagements,  it  is  my  duty  to  curtail,  as 
much  as  possible,  all  correspondence  that  is  not 
absolutely  necessary. 


LITEIIARY   AND    SOCIAL    OCCUPATIONS.  25 

'  You  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  this  does  not  in- 
clude my  correspondence  with  you,  it  is  necessary 
to  both  of  us ;  I  delight  in  repeating  this  to  you, 
God  grant  that  your  belief  in  my  words  may  be  as 
deep  as  their  truth !  You  are  constantly  in  my 
thoughts,  my  dear  mother,  your  grief  harrows  me 
more  than  I  can  tell ;  I  would  give  half  my  life  to 
restore  some  of  your  lost  courage  and  happiness. 
Poor,  dear  mother !  there  is  no  one  who  more  fully 
understands  the  void  that  you  suffer  from,  I  am 
aware  of  the  impossibility  of  ever  filling  it  up,  no- 
thing can  repair  your  loss.  Nothing  can  make  up 
or  console  you  for  it.  I  am  perfectly  certain  that 
no  son  ever  loved  his  mother  more  than  I  love  you, 
but  I  have  no  hope  of  filling  my  father's  place  in 
your  heart ;  in  that  relation  there  is  a  charm,  a  per- 
fect union  which  is  above  every  other ;  its  plea- 
sures and  its  ties  can  be  compared  to  nothing  else. 
Those  whom  God  has  joined  are  henceforth  beyond 
the  reach  of  their  fellow-men ;  there  can  be  no  com- 
plete consolation  for  the  sorrow  which  springs  from 
this  source.  Nevertheless,  dear  mother,  I  am  not 
afraid  of  hurting  you  when  I  tell  you  that  resigna- 
tion should  inspire  not  only  submission  but  cour- 
age. Forgive  me  if  I  venture  to  say  that  one  must 
try  to  enjoy,  even  in  the  midst  of  this  hard  life,  the 
good  which  still  remains  to  us.  Continue  to  speak 
to  me  of  my  father,  of  your  grief,  of  the  things 
which  made  his  happiness;  but  let  me  have  the 
power  of  somewhat  alleviating  your  sorrow.  If  I 
ever  do  any  real  good,  the  consolation  that  it  may 


26  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

afford  you  will  be  my  sweetest  recompense.     I  ask 
you  this  for  my  own  sake,  for  my  own  hapjoiness.' 

The  sphere  of  M.  Guizot's  life  and  ideas  Avas 
beginning  to  widen.  He  was  presented  by  M. 
Stapfer  to  M.  Suard,  the  permanent  Secretaiy  of 
the  French  Academy,  and  received  with  much  kind- 
ness, and  was  thus  introduced  into  an  entirely  new 
world. 

M.  Guizot  has  himself  described  it  in  an  article 
in  the  Revue  Fran^aise,  which  was  the  basis  of  his 
notice  on  Madame  de  Rumford :  — 

'  A  woman  seventy-nine  years  old ;  two  Acade- 
micians, one  eighty-two,  the  other  seventy-six  years 
of  age  —  these  were  the  only  rallying-points  left  in 
1809  to  the  society,  which,  in  1769,  so  many  distin- 
guished j^eople  tried  so  anxiously  to  attract  to  their 
houses.  The  salons  of  Madame  Houdetot,  of  M.  Su- 
ard, and  of  the  Abbe  Morellet,  were  almost  the  only 
retreats  in  which  the  conversational  talent  of  the 
last  century  could  display  itself  at  its  ease  and 
without  constraint.  The  memory  of  that  age  was, 
however,  still  held  in  great  honour,  and  many  were 
proud  of  belonging  to  it ;  how,  indeed,  could  the 
new  men  —  children  of  the  Revolution  and  the  Em- 
pire —  disavow  the  eighteenth  century  ?  But  how 
far  were  they  from  resembling  it !  They  were  ab- 
sorbed in  politics  —  practical,  actual  politics  —  all 
their  thoughts  and  all  their  efforts  were  in  constant 
tension,  either  for  their  own  or  for  their  master's  in- 
terests —  no  meditation,  no  leisure  ;  action,  nothing 
but  labour  and  action.     The  eighteenth  century,  it 


LITERARY   AND    SOCIAL    OCCUPATIONS.  27 

is  true,  thought  much  about  politics,  but  as  a  study, 
not  as  a  business.  It  was  the  difference  between  a 
pleasant  walk  in  the  fields  and  the  labour  of  driv- 
ing the  plough.  Politics  held  a  great  pla,ce  in  their 
imaginations,  a  small  one  in  their  lives.  They  re- 
flected, discussed,  and  planned  a  great  deal,  but  acted 
very  little.  Political  as  it  no  doubt  was  in  its  aspi- 
rations and  in  its  results,  the  eighteenth  century  was 
a  great  deal  besides ;  society  took  a  pleasure  in  the 
truth  and  the  expression  of  its  ideas,  quite  indepen- 
dently of  any  use  to  be  made  of  them  by  journalists 
and  legislators. 

'  This  is  the  real  philosophical  temperament,  very 
different  from  the  political  spirit  which  cai-es  for 
ideas  only  in  their  relation  to  social  facts,  and  to 
their  practical  application.  Certain  classes,  certain 
coteries  in  the  eighteenth  century  —  the  economists 
for  instance  —  occupied  themselves  especially  with 
politics ;  but  the  century  in  general,  the  society  in 
general,  cared  above  all  things  for  intellectual  en- 
joyment, and  for  discoveries  of  every  kind,  in  every 
direction  and  at  any  cost.  The  imaginations  of 
Voltaire,  Rousseau,  and  Diderot,  would  have  felt 
imprisoned  if  they  had  been  at  liberty  to  deal  only 
with  such  questions  as  concern  the  form  of  govern- 
ment and  the  fate  of  nations. 

'  The  last  contemporaries  of  these  great  men,  the 
survivors  of  this  philosophical  school  —  M.  Suard 
and  the  Abbe  Morellet  —  were  undoubtedly  not 
endowed  with  such  insatiable  and  comprehensive 
minds.     M.  Suard  had  no  strong  desire  to  learn  or 


28  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

to  produce,  even  if  literature  could  have  opened  the 
whole  universe  to  him ;  he  was  more  a  man  of  the 
world  than  a  man  of  letters.  Fastidious,  indolent, 
aristocratic  in  his  refinement  and  his  scorn  for  the 
things  he  disapproved,  he  cared  little  to  develope 
his  faculties,  or  to  acquire  fame,  if  only  he  might 
have  an  honoui-able  life,  full  of  tender  interests  and 
agreeable  associates.  Since  work  had  become  no 
longer  a  necessity  he  treated  it  as  a  pastime  —  tak- 
ing it  up  and  laying  it  down,  reading  and  writing 
at  leisure  —  without  any  object  but  his  own  satis- 
faction, with  a  sort  of  intellectual  epicureanism, 
which,  however,  was  neither  selfish  nor  indifferent. 

'  The  studies  of  the  Abbe  Morellet  were  more 
serious,  more  patient,  but  very  special.  He  devoted 
himself  almost  exclusively  to  political  economy. 
One  would  have  thought  that  to  both  these  men 
the  remnant  of  the  old  society  of  the  Constituante* 
which  was  to  be  found  in  the  salons  of  Madame  de 
Tesse  and  the  Princesse  de  Henin,  preserving  as  it 
did  its  ancient  traditions,  its  polished  manners,  its 
respect  for  literature,  and  its  monarchical  principles, 
would  have  been  amply  sufficient.  And  yet  this 
was  not  at  all  the  case.  Following  the  example  of 
the  master-spirits  of  their  time  both  these  men  had 
wider  and  more  various  intellectual  acquirements. 
In  the  development  of  the  thoughts  and  projects  of 
the  human  mind,  they  took  a  more  disinterested  in- 
terest (if  I  may  use  the  term),  more  free  from  any 
particular  direction  or  immediate  application ;    the 

*  The  National  Coustituent  Assembly  of  1789.  — Tr. 


LITERARY   AND    SOCIAL    OCCUPATIONS.  29 

coterie,  suited  to  their  wants,  must  present  a  more 
complete  and  faithful  reflection  of  the  age  and 
society  in  the  bosom  of  which  they  had  been 
brought  up. 

'  Such  a  circle,  in  fact,  was  theirs.  Old  friends  of 
the  same  standing  and  the  same  tastes ;  M.  de  Bouf- 
flers,  M.  Dupont  de  Nemours,  M.  Gallois,  and  a  few 
Academicians  whose  election  M.  Suard  had  sup- 
ported, and  who  formed  a  little  party  devoted  to 
him  in  tlie  Academy ;  a  few  young  men  whose  tal- 
ents he  encouraged  with  a  kindness  which  was  per- 
fectly sincere ;  some  members  of  the  Senate,  and 
other  bodies  who  professed  independence ;  a  few 
foreigners  who  would  never  have  forgiven  them- 
selves if  they  had  left  Paris  without  knowing  the 
last  contemporaries  of  Voltaire,  and  of  the  century 
whose  glory  has  reached  farther  than  that  of  any 
other :  these  were  the  materials  of  which  this  soci- 
ety was  composed.  They  met  every  Thursday  in 
the  rooms  of  the  Abbe  Morellet,  and  on  Saturdays 
and  Tuesdays  at  M.  Suard's;  sometimes  a  smaller 
circle  would  meet  ofteuer.  On  Wednesdays  Ma- 
dame d'Houdetot  received  at  diimer  a  certain  num- 
ber of  people  who  were  invited  once  for  all,  and 
who  might  go  there  whenever  they  pleased.  There 
were  about  eight  or  ten  guests  in  general,  some- 
times more.  There  was  no  display,  no  luxuries; 
the  dinner  was  the  means,  not  the  end,  of  the  en- 
tertainment. 

'After  the  meal  was  over,  Madame  d'Houdetot, 
seated  herself  in  the  chimney-corner,  in  her  large 


30  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT    IN    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

arm-chfiir,  with  bent  back  and  head  inclined  almost 
on  her  chest,  speaking-  low  and  little,  almost  motion- 
less, assuming  the  part  of  a  listener  rather  than  that 
of  a  leader  in  the  conversation  ;  sug-g'estina'  nothino-. 
never  inten-upting-,  giving  herself  no  airs  as  host- 
ess ;  kind,  easy,  but  taking  in  everything  that  was 
said  —  in  literary  discussion,  in  social  or  theatrical 
news,  in  the  slightest  incident  or  witty  saying  —  a 
lively  and  discriminating  interest:  she  was  a  piq- 
uant and  original  mixture  of  old  age  and  youth,  of 
quiet  and  animation. 

'  There  was  less  ease,  less  absence  of  form  at  M. 
Suard's;  iefe-d-^cfes  between  neighbours  were  seldom 
allowed,  or  digressions  for  the  sake  of  some  passing 
fancy:  a  general  conversation,  keeping  to  the  subject 
under  discussion,  was  the  rule.  It  was  the  custom 
of  the  house,  and  it  was  observed ;  the  consequence 
was  sometimes  a  little  constraint  and  coldness  in 
the  beginning  of  the  evening ;  but,  on  the  other 
hand,  much  greater  real  liberty  and  variety  in  that 
house  than  in  any  other.  M.  Suard  was  not  afraid 
of  any  subject  being  ventured  upon  either  by  him- 
self or  by  his  guests.  Nowhere  was  the  freedom  of 
thought  and  speech  so  great,  so  openly  allowed  and 
encouraged,  as  by  the  master  of  the  hoiise.  Those 
who  did  not  see  it,  cannot  imagine,  and  those  who 
witnessed  it  have  forgotten,  the  timidity  of  men's 
minds  at  that  time,  or  how  constrained  were  the  con- 
versations ;  to  what  an  extent  as  soon  as  the  small- 
est approach  to  politics  was  suspected,  faces  gi-ew 
long,  and  observations  conventional. 


UTERART   AJTD    SOCIAL    OCCUPATIONS.  31 

'  A  censor  of  this  period  showed  one  of  his  friends 
a  passag'e  in  a  phiy  which  it  was  his  duty  to  exam- 
ine. "You  see  no  aUusions  in  it,"  he  said,  "nor 
would  tlie  public  see  any ;  well,  then,  there  are 
allusions,  and  I  shall  take  good  care  not  to  let  them 
pass." 

'From  1809  to  1814  every  one  was  pretty  much 
like  this  censor;  every  one  behaved  as  if  there 
were  allusions  where  none  were  to  be  seen  ;  and 
every  serious  conversation  on  politics,  or  even  on 
philosophy,  was  at  once  paralysed.  M.  Suard  never 
allowed  this  paralysis  to  invade  his  circle :  no  man, 
indeed,  ever  stood  more  apart  from  any  political 
design  or  intrigue,  or  could  have  been  more  really 
moderate  in  his  opinions  and  wishes ;  he  had  no 
taste  or  talent  for  politics  or  for  action.  But  free- 
dom of  thought  and  speech  was  his  life  ;  it  Avas  a 
point  of  honour  with  him :  he  would  have  felt  de- 
graded in  his  own  eyes  if  he  had  given  it  up,  and  he 
maintained  it  for  the  benefit  of  us  all.  This  was 
sufficient  to  give  interest,  animation,  and  a  real 
moral  value  to  his  circle.  The  convei'sation  was  not 
wanting  in  width  of  range  and  variety  in  other 
respects ;  no  tradition,  no  prejudice  narrowed  the 
field;  every  subject  —  philosophy,  literature,  history, 
art,  times  ancient  and  modern,  foreign  countries  — 
each  and  all  were  received  with  favour.  Even  new 
and  crude  ideas,  however  little  in  harmony  with  the 
traditions  of  the  eighteenth  century,  did  not  meet 
with  hostile  rejection ;  their  repulsiveness  was  for- 
given on  account  of  the  animation  excited  by  their 


32  MONSIEUR    GUIZOT    IX    PRIVATE    LIKE. 

novelty.  For  animation  was  tlie  great  want ;  soci- 
ety was  living  on  ideas  and  discoveries  which  had 
long  ago  been  sifted  to  the  bottom  ;  the  same  people, 
the  same  reflections,  the  same  anecdotes,  were  per- 
petually recurring ;  and  although  there  was  real 
activity  of  thought,  it  was  neither  fertile  nor  pro- 
gressive. But  we  always  felt  the  sincerity  and  the 
single-mindedness  which,  perhaps,  constitute  the 
greatest  charm  in  the  interchange  of  thought.  We 
met,  we  conversed  without  any  obligation  or  object, 
animated  only  by  the  attraction  of  intellectual  inter- 
course. It  was  not,  indeed,  the  serious  discussion  of 
a  circle  of  friends  passionately  devoted  to  truth  and 
science,  but  it  was  still  less  the  narrow  selfishness 
and  petty  aims  of  a  society  caring  only  for  the  prac- 
tical, and  acting  and  speaking  only  with  a  view  to 
some  special  design  or  definite  result.  It  was  not 
indeed  entirely  for  their  own  sake  that  opinions  and 
ideas  were  sought  or  expressed ;  something  more 
was  demanded  from  them  —  social  enjoyment  —  but 
nothing  beyond.' 

Young  as  he  then  was,  M.  Guizot,  himself,  sought 
for  more  than  social  pleasure  in  conversation  ;  he 
alreadj'  foresaw  that  his  ideas  must  one  day  obtain 
the  triumphs  which  belong  to  truth,  and  which  she 
never  fails  sooner  or  later  to  attain. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

1807-12. 

COURTSHIP   AND   MARRIAGE. 

There  was  one  pleasure  which  M.  Guizot  found  in 
M.  Suard's  house  of  a  kind  that  he  valued  above  all 
others.  This  feeling  finds  expression  in  a  letter  to 
his  second  daugliter,  Madame  Cornelis  de  Witt,  dated 
the  twenty-sixth  of  December,  1867  : 

'  I  know  not  how  many  years  ago,  but  it  is  very 
long  ago,  I  was  at  M.  de  Talleyrand's  one  morning, 
with  a  very  small  circle  of  friends  ;  there  was  the 
Duchess  de  Dino,  M.  Piscatory,  and  I  forget  who 
else,  all  full  of  talk.  I  happened  to  say,  "  Conver- 
sation is  a  great  pleasure."  "  There  is  one  still 
greater,"  said  M.  de  Talleyrand,  with  a  somewhat 
scornful  smile —  "  action  !"  Whereupon  I  retorted, 
"Yes,  Prince,  but  there  is  another  which  is  greater 
far  than  the  other  two — affection! "  He  looked  at  me 
with  some  surprise,  but  without  smiling.  I  think 
that  this  dry,  corrupt,  old  diplomatist  had  wit  enough 
to  see  that  I  was  right.  I  have  said  good-bye  to 
action,  but  affection  above  all  things,  and  in  a  lesser 
degree,  conversation,  still  occupy  a  large  space  in  my 


34  MONSIEUR    GUIZOT   IN    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

life.  My  thoughts  continually  overflow,  and  want 
to  pour  themselves  into  another  soul.' 

M.  Guizot  had  met  with  a  soul  to  whom  he  was 
able  to  confide  the  incessant  activity'  of  his  thoughts, 
one  who  was  worthy  of  understanding  him,  and  Avho 
offered  to  him  in  return  treasures  of  inestimable  value. 
The  story  of  the  sudden,  symj^athetic  impulse  which 
drove  him,  when  only  twenty  years  old,  to  offer  the 
assistance  of  his  pen  to  Mademoiselle  de  Meulan,  at  a 
moment  when  she  was  overpowered  with  cares  and 
sorrows,  which,  for  the  time,  shook  even  her  firm- 
ness and  courage,  has  been  often  repeated. 

M.  Guizot  has  himself  related  the  circumstance 
in  the  notes  that  he  left  on  his  wife.  I  will  give 
here  a  few  extracts :  * 

'  Throughout  her  childhood  she  was  languid  and 
delicate.  From  a  very  early  age,  her  lively  sensi- 
bility, perfect  uprightness,  and  extreme  quickness, 
attracted  notice  ;  but  she  appeared  to  have  no  taste 
for  any  intellectual  labour.  She  did  not  dislike  her 
lessons,  but  she  took  no  pleasure  in  them.  She  did 
them  because  it  was  more  easy  to  do  as  she  was  told 
than  to  resist,  and  from  a  sense  of  duty,  but  without 
any  feeling  of  interest  in  her  work.  She  always 
spoke  of  her  childhood  as  of  a  period  of  cold  vacuity. 
She  was,  however,  passionately  attached  to  her  sister, 
wlio  was  about  eighteen  months  her  junior ;  and  she 
also  conceived  an  intense  affection  for  a  little  brother. 


*  M.  de  Rerausat  was  the  only  person  who  ever  saw  these 
notes,  which  guided  him  in  his  beautifid  notice  of  Madame  Guizot, 
published  at  the  beginning  of  his  Conseils  de  Morale. 


COURTSniP   AND    MARRIAGE.  35 

named  Basile,  who  died,  and  of  whom  she  made  a 
kind  of  idol,  that  for  a  long  while  visited  her  in  her 
dreams.  Between  the  ages  of  ten  and  fourteen  her 
intelligence  developed  in  such  an  extraordinary 
manner  that  her  family  regarded  her  as  a  prodigy, 
and  yet  she  never  lost  her  languor  and  her  distaste 
for  every  kind  of  study.  She  wrote  plays  and  fables 
in  a  style  both  lively  and  correct,  but  with  no  origi- 
nality or  power  of  invention.  Only  on  rare  occasions 
did  the  keen  sensibility  of  her  nature  exhibit  itself : 
her  ordinary  mood  was  silent  and  dreamy.  The 
family  physician,  Vicq  d'Azyr,  attended  her  with 
intense  and  affectionate  interest. 

'Her  father,  Charles- Jacques-Louis  de  Meulan, 
head  of  the  fiscal  department  of  the  city  of  Paris,  was 
a  good  and  upright  man  of  lively  manners,  Avhose  sole 
occupation  was  to  enjoy  his  fortune,  and  to  make  other 
people  participate  in  his  enjoyment.  He  was  fond  of 
plays,  songs,  and  light  literature  in  general,  and  took 
Colle  into  his  house  in  the  capacity  of  private  secre- 
tary. He  considered  philosophers  pedantic  and  pre- 
sumptuous, and  detested  them  accordingly.  Her 
mother,  Marguerite-Jeanne  de  Saint-Chamans,  was  a 
woman  of  exalted  feeling  and  refined  mind.  She  en- 
joyed the  society  of  the  clever  men  who  professed  all 
the  new  opinions  more  in  consequence  of  her  generoiis 
spirit  and  refined  taste  than  because  she  shared  their 
convictions,  or  was  animated  by  any  party  spirit.  Slie 
was  connected  with  all  the  men  of  the  eighteenth 
century  who  professed  serious  and  moral  principles : 
M.  Necker  and  his  followers,  the  economists :  M.  de 


36  MOXSIEUR    GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATK    LIFE. 

Rulliieres,  and  M.  de  Condorcet,  passed  almost  all  their 
time  at  her  house.  Her  father,  M.  le  Comte  de  Saint- 
Chamans,  colonel  in  a  line  regiment,  and  a  man  of 
high  character,  supported  the  opinions  held  by  the 
minority  of  the  nobility  in  the  Constituent  Assembly. 

'Mademoiselle  de  Meulan's  intellect  was  first  roused 
into  activity  in  the  early  days  of  the  Revolution. 
She  lived  in  the  midst  of  all  shades  of  opinion  ;  her 
father  and  many  of  his  relations  were  aristocrats; 
her  mother  and  a  few  intimate  friends,  such  as  M. 
de  Lamilliere,  were  followers  of  M.  Necker,  and  in 
favour  of  doubling  the  members  of  the  third  estate, 
and  of  legal  and  philanthroj^ic  reforms.  Many 
others,  as  for  instance,  M.  de  Champfort,  were  re- 
publicans. She,  herself,  had  no  fixed  opinions  ; 
most  of  the  acts  of  the  Revolution  were  displeasing 
to  her,  but  the  excitement  and  liberty  were  delight- 
ful. She  always  remembered  with  transport  tlie 
state  of  society  at  that  time,  and  two  sittings  of  the 
Constituent  Assembly  to  which  she  was  taken. 
Thenceforth  she  become  possessed  of  a  strong  and 
unaffected  enthusiasm  for  equality.  She  was  at  the 
same  time  liberal  and  anti-revolutionary,  and  yet 
unconscious  of  holding  either  opinion. 

'Between  1788  and  1790  the  fortunes  of  her 
family  began  to  decline.  Her  father  was  ill,  anxieties 
of  every  kind  began  to  harass  her  relations,  and  de- 
veloped in  her  ardent  family  aft'ections.  She  could 
no  longer  bear  the  contrast  presented  by  the  quiet 
of  her  own  life  with  the  violent  convulsions  which 
agitated  society.    All  her  energy  turned  to  sympathy 


1,— _0 i 


m 
i' 


fmMm  - 


If''---- 


NECKER. 


COURTSHIP   AND   MARRIAGE.  37 

and  self-devotion  :  and  she  soon  had  an  opportunity 
for  its  exercise.  Her  father  died  in  1790,  and  the 
remains  of  his  large  fortune  produced  nothing  but 
h^wsuits  for  his  widow  and  children.  Mademoiselle 
de  Meulan  was  miserable  because  she  could  not 
persuade  her  family  to  make  a  grand  resolution —  to 
give  up  everything,  and  reduce  themselves  to  what 
was  strictly  necessary.  Her  mother's  incapacity  for 
business  was  absolute.  Mademoiselle  de  Meulan 
was  the  only  one  who  was  able,  later  on,  to  disen- 
tangle their  sadly  complicated  affairs.  She  pre- 
served a  bitter  recollection  of  the  cruel  deceptions 
of  that  time.  "To  count  many  friends  without  being 
able  to  count  tcpon  any  of  them,"  she  says,  in  an 
essay  called  Friends  in  Misfortune,  "plenty  of  money 
passing  through  your  fingers,  without  being  able  to 
keep  any  of  it ;  many  debts  to  pay,  and  none  to 
receive,  many  investments  which  bring  you  in 
nothing ! " 

'In  1794,  all  the  nobles  were  exiled  from  Paris, 
and  Mademoiselle  de  Meulan  established  herself  at 
Passy.  The  two  sisters  had  scarcely  any  other 
amusement  than  to  go  daily  and  sign  their  names  on 
the  municipal  register,  and  to  hear  the  mayor  (an 
honest  man  enough)  say,  "Citoyennes,  how  is  your 
mother  I  "  In  this  uneventful  home  life,  the  advent 
of  the  Reign  of  Terror  gave  a  violent  shock  to  the 
mind  of  Mademoiselle  de  IMeulan.  Her  character 
henceforth  became  strongly  emotional,  and  she  ac- 
quired the  habit  of  solitary  meditation.  It  was  at 
this  time,   that,  as  she  sat  one  day  drawing,   she 


38  MOXSIEUR   GUIZOT    IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

suddenly  discovered  that  she  was  clever,  and  very 
clever.  She  was  as  much  pleased  as  if  she  had  found 
a  companion  or  a  friend. 

'On  her  return  to  Paris,  after  the  ninth  Thermidor, 
she  soon  found  her  intellect  develope  as  quickly  as 
her  character.  She  took  an  ardent  interest  in  the 
politics  of  the  time,  in  the  determined  resistance 
offered  by  liberty  to  Revolutionary  principles ;  but 
she  had  no  general  theories,  no  pi-ecise  object,  her 
point  of  view  was  entirely  moral  and  practical.  Her 
confidence  in  the  strength  of  her  yoiithful  poAvers 
continued  to  increase ;  her  natural  bent  was  to  strong 
opinions  and  energetic  resolutions.  In  her  were 
combined  all  the  exquisite  delicacy,  all  the  refine- 
ments of  mind,  of  feeling,  and  of  manners,  which 
distinguished  the  Ancien  Berjime,  with  the  frank, 
open,  and  somewhat  unconventional  habits  of  tlie 
Revolution. 

'  In  the  midst  of  all  this  political  excitement,  she 
read  and  thought  much,  especially  on  metaphysics. 
She  began  the  works  of  Locke,  Helvetius,  Condillac, 
and  many  other  authors,  but  without  finishing  any. 
She  stopped  every  minute  to  reflect,  and  to  Avrite. 
Ideas  crowded  and  jostled  each  other  in  her  head, 
and  no  one  was  near  to  help  her  to  disentangle  the 
confusion. 

*  In  1798  she  saved  the  life  of  M.  de  Lamilliere, 
who  was  summoned  before  a  military  commission  for 
being  an  emigrant.  Treilhard,  who  was  Director  at 
that  time,  was  much  struck  by  her.  No  one  else  was 
interested  on  behalf  of  the  accused;  and  yet,  in  spite 


COURTSHIP   AND    MARRIAGE.  39 

of  the  difficulty  of  the  case,  M.  Treilhard  succeeded 
in  arranging  that  he  should  not  be  brought  before 
the  commission.  She  always  remembered  with 
pleasure  this,  her  fii'st  personal  success,  and  the  ob- 
stinacy with  which  she  had  conquered  lier  aversion 
to  Treilhard  in  her  frequent  visits  to  discuss  the 
affiiir  at  his  house.  When  it  was  over  she  again 
went  to  see  him  two  or  three  times  as  a  proof  of 
gratitude,  but  her  timidity  and  dislike  of  the  man 
were  so  great  that  one  evening  she  was  on  the  point 
of  bursting  into  tears  in  his  reception-room. 

'  It  was  about  this  time  that  she  began  to  Avork 
for  her  family.  She  knew  that  she  had  ability,  and 
M.  de  Vaines  and  M.  Suard  suggested  that  she  might 
turn  it  to  account ;  until  that  moment  the  idea  had 
never  entered  her  head. 

'  In  1800  she  published  the  Contradictions,  and  La 
Chapelle  cVAyton ;  in  1801  she  began  writing  in  the 
Publicisfe,  a  paper  that  M.  Suard  had  just  set  up. 
Her  articles  had  from  the  first  great  success  in  social 
circles.  She  had  taken  to  going  out  in  the  evenin<j 
whenever  she  had  time ;  she  found  amusement,  but 
no  satisfaction  in  society,  feeling  no  real  s^mipathy 
with  anyone ;  always  independent,  she  seemed  a 
stranger  wherever  she  went;  she  was  untamed,  if 
one  may  say  so ;  she  was  even  inclined  to  despise 
any  pleasure  that  she  felt  in  society,  for  she  knew 
that  she  possessed  a  force  of  intelligence  and  will  far 
superior  to  any  that  she  saw  around  her,  and  to  all 
that  she  had  hitherto  herself  put  in  action,  but  she 
was   not   capable   of  turning  it   to  account,  or  of 


40  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

developing  it  properly.  Her  criticisms  were  affected 
by  the  bent  of  her  mind  ;  they  were  not  entirely 
literary,  philosophy  was  always  creeping  in  to  con- 
nect her  literary  judgments  with  descriptions  of  hu- 
man nature,  of  social  habits,  and  of  different  periods. 

'In  1803,  her  sister  married  M.  Jacques  Dillon,  a 
distinguished  engineer,  who  belonged  to  the  branch 
of  the  Dillon  family  established  in  Naples.  M.  de 
Barnet,  one  of  Mademoiselle  de  Meulan's  relations, 
left  20,000  frs.  to  each  sister.  She  added  her  own 
legacy  to  her  sister's  ;  for  she  was  convinced  that  she 
never  would  marry.  Her  inclination  to  sacrifice  her 
own  personal  happiness  did  not  destroy  her  capacity 
for  passionately  enjoying  happiness.  Never,  per- 
haps was  seen  a  combination  of  such  entire  disinter- 
estedness with  such  intense  individuality.  Her  sister 
adored  her. 

'  M.  Dillon  died  towards  the  end  of  March,  1807. 
M.  Suard,  in  whose  company  I  was  dining  at  M. 
Stapfer's  table,  told  us  the  story  of  his  death  two 
days  after  it  occm-red,  and  described  the  poverty  in 
which  he  had  left  his  family,  and  the  anxiety  of 
Mademoiselle  de  Meulan,  herself  ill  from  sorrow 
and  fatigue. 

'  I  wrote  to  him  that  very  day ;  by  the  following 
morning  I  had  finished  an  article  for  her.  It  was 
inserted  in  the  Puhliciste  of  the  thirty-first  of  March. 

'  I  spent  a  fortnight  in  writing  for  her  without 
making  myself  known.  In  the  beginning,  I  had  not 
at  all  decided  on  letting  her  ever  know  my  name,  or 
ever  seeing  her.     Nevertheless,  I  am  sure  that  when 


COURTSHIP   AND   MARRIAGE.  41 

I  went  to  her  for  the  first  time,  I  felt  a  presentiment 
that  I  was  doing  sometliing  which  would,  perhaps, 
influence  my  wliole  life. 

'I  saw  her  for  the  first  time  on  the  thirteenth  of 
April.  In  the  month  of  June  I  settled  myself  in  the 
country  near  Montfort  I'Amaury  in  the  house  of 
M.  Stapfer,  with  whom  I  was  very  intimate.  I  was 
in  bad  health.  She  took  charge  of  all  my  literary 
aff"airs  and  relations  in  Paris.  I  went  thither  about 
once  in  six  weeks  for  three  or  four  days.  At  that 
time  I  had  just  made  my  appearance  in  the  society 
formed  out  of  the  relics  of  the  eighteenth  century. 
These  relics  were  of  two  kinds :  the  one  consisted  of 
the  philosophers,  and  the  other  of  that  portion  of  the 
aristocratic  society  which,  without  caring  for  the 
philosojihers,  had  had  no  violent  quarrel  with  them. 
This  was  the  society  which  I  saw  whenever  I  went 
to  Paris  —  she  had  lived  in  it  always.  The  diff'er- 
ences  of  birth  and  of  habits  for  a  long  time  interfered 
with  our  perfectly  understanding  each  other.  Perfect 
harmony  was  attained  only  after  long  and  reciprocal 
influence.  I  raised  and  widened  the  sphere  of  her 
life ;  she  greatly  contributed  to  tlie  trutli  of  mine. 
It  was  between  1810  and  1812,  after  I  had  definitely 
returned  to  Paris,  that  our  intimacy  became  perfect, 
and  our  ideas  and  opinions  completely  fused.  In 
July,  1811,  I  made  a  tour  in  Languedoc.  It  was 
thence  that  I  wrote  to  tell  her  all  that  she  had 
become  to  me.  On  my  return,  in  September,  our 
marriage  was  arranged,  but  it  could  not  take  place 
until  the  seventh  of  April,  1812.' 


42  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

M.  Guizot's  correspondence  with  Mademoiselle  de 
Meulan  during  this  period  bears  witness  to  the  con- 
stant progress  of  their  intellectual  intimacy  and  of 
their  mutual  affection.  The  differences  of  birth  and 
education,  far  more  than  that  of  age,  often  caused  a 
diversity  of  opinion  which  astonished  and  annoyed 
them.  'You  thank  me  for  my  advice  on  foreign 
literature,'  Mademoiselle  de  Meulan  writes  on  the 
twenty-fom-th  of  February,  1809: 

'  Mon  I'rere,  vos  conseils  sont  les  meilleurs  du  monde 
lis  sont  bien  raisonii^s  et  j'en  fais  im  grand  cas, 
Mais  vous  trouverez  bon  que  je  n'en  use  pas.'  * 

'  Very  well,  M.  Orgon,  all  you  want  is  a  great 
beard  on  your  face.'  But  as  you  are  so  fond  of 
advice  (which  you  do  not  follow),  I  will  add  that 
our  Editor  came  this  morning  to  complain  to  me  that 
you  had  sent  him  five  articles  on  Walstein,  and  I  saw 
that  he  was  so  emban-assed  with  the  two  last  that  I 
advised  him  to  put  them  in  the  body  of  the  paper  to 
make  a  little  variet}^,  and  for  the  sake  of  those  who 
complain  of  having  had  already  three  in  the  outside 
sheet  (feuilleton).  You  must  know  that  M.  de  Saint 
Legier  did  not  come  to  tell  me  this  of  his  own  accord. 
The  same  thing  was  told  to  Lacretelle.  M.  Suard 
insinuated  to  me  something  like  it,  as  well  as  M. 
Marignie.    What  do  you  say,  my  lord,  to  my  advice  ? 


*  '  My  brother,  your  counsels  are  the  best  in  the  world  ;  they 
are  well  argued,  and  I  value  them  highly,  but  you  must  not  be 
offended  if  I  do  not  follow  them.'  (From  Moliere's  Tartufe, 
Act  iv.,  Scene  3.)  —  Tr. 


COURTSHIP   AND    MARRIAGE.  43 

And  what  did  I  really  advise,  "  to  repeat  things  which 
have  been  said  over  and  over  again  hy  French  critics  f" 
Oh  yes,  I  am  so  fond  of  repetitions  !  Here  is  this 
rigid  author  determined  to  express  his  opinion,  what- 
ever it  may  be,  and  who,  in  order  to  reject  my  advice, 
attributes  to  me  an  opinion  which  he  well  knows  is 
not  mine.  Seriously,  my  dear  friend,  did  I  ever  tell 
you  that  you  were  not  to  follow  your  own  method  1 
I  am  so  far  from  wishing'  this  that  if  I  feared  that  my 
counsels  had  any  influence  over  you  (which,  how- 
ever, thank  Heaven,  I  have  no  cause  to  fear),  I 
should  abstain  from  bestowing  them  on  you,  lest 
you  should  change,  or  be  constrained,  or  cease  to  be 
yourself;  you  can  be  nothing  better  than  that,  in 
the  fii'st  place  because  your  ideas  and  your  method 
are  excellent,  and  in  the  second  because  they  are 
your  own ;  and  everything  in  you  is  so  consistent, 
forms  such  a  perfect  whole,  that  you  ought  to  alter 
nothing. 

'  But  you  have  certain  other  peculiarities  which 
are  inconsistent  with  this  whole,  which  are  not 
natural  to  you.  You  have  some  prejudices,  my 
dear  friend,  because  you  have  thought  a  great  deal 
and  acted  little ;  some  expressions,  the  effect  of 
which  you  cannot  aj^preciate  because  you  gave 
up  mixing  with  the  public  you  are  writing  for  just 
at  the  moment  when  you  began  to  write  for  it,  just 
when  your  observation  of  society  might  have  in- 
structed and  warned  you.  You  are  not  writing  for 
me,  dear  friend,  nor  for  yourself,  nor  for  your  cul- 
tivated and  reasonable  friends.     You  do  not  know 


44  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

the  people  for  whom  you  write,  you  cannot  follow 
their  passing  prejudices,  nor  tell  what  it  would  be 
advisable  —  not  to  feign  —  but  to  avoid  stating  too 
crudely.  And  after  all,  can  we  be  certain,  even  after 
long  meditation,  that  the  knowledge  of  ideas  differ- 
ing from  oui-  own,  even  if  they  were  false,  would  not 
change  our  own  in  any  respect,  if  it  were  only  by 
suggesting  new  ones?  You  will  tell  me  that  you 
expect  nothing  from  yovu-  public.  Ah,  indeed,  I 
thought  that  you  expected  for  it  the  price  of  our 
work  undertaken  to  procure  the  means  of  living,  and 
that  this  price  was  to  be  proportioned  to  your  suc- 
cess. You  care  only  for  a  moderate  competency ; 
but,  my  friend,  the  greater  your  success  and  your 
reputation,  the  sooner  and  more  easily  will  you  ac- 
complish your  modest  desire.  Are  not  these  con- 
siderations worth  thinking  of,  lazy  one  1  You  have 
often  told  me  that  you  wished  to  be  useful ;  when 
one  wants  to  be  useful  to  mankind,  and  has  no  whip 
with  which  to  threaten  them,  one  must  begin  by 
pleasing  them  in  order  to  make  them  obey  in  the 
end.  Listen  to  me  —  there  is  another  reason  why 
you  should  try  to  please  the  public  ;  it  is  that  I,  your 
man  of  business,  ought  to  be  paid  for  my  trouble, 
and  I  like  to  hear  you  praised.  For  this  reason,  dear 
friend,  take  care  not  to  change,  be  and  remain  your- 
self; only  (to  gratify  their  tastes)  give  the  public 
fewer  articles  on  tlie  same  subject.  This  done,  all 
that  you  will  say  will  be  right.  Even  if  the  form 
should  be  a  little  peculiar  they  will  become  accus- 
tomed to  it ;  variety  is  the  one  thing  needful. 


COURTSHIP   AND    MARRIAGE.  45 

*  Here  is  the  end  of  my  sermon.  I  wanted  to 
prove,  not  that  you  were  in  the  wrong,  but  that  I 
was  in  the  right ;  and  that  you  ought  to  set  more 
vahie  on  my  advice.  I  also  recommend  you  not  to 
thwart  me ;  when  I  am  vexed  I  write  long  letters,  I 
tii-e  myself,  I  do  nothing  else,  and  I  waste  all  my 
time  with  you  !     What  a  delightful  waste  of  time  ! ' 

In  the  following  year  the  fusion  of  the  two  souls 
had  become  more  nearly  complete.  Mademoiselle 
de  Meulan  writes  from  Marly,  where  she  was  spend- 
ing a  few  days  with  Madame  de  Vaines :  — 

*  As  I  have  often  told  you,  you  have  killed  all  my 
faculties  ;  but  there  is  no  harm  done  since  you  have 
put  yourself  in  the  place  of  niyseW 


CHAPTER  V. 

1812-20. 

ENTRANCE    INTO    PUBLIC   LIFE. 

A  FEW  days  after  his  marriage  M.  Guizot  was  nomi- 
nated Professor  of  Literature.  At  first  he  was  only 
the  substitute  for  M.  de  Lacretelle,  with  a  special  dis- 
pensation on  account  of  his  youth.  He  soon  attained 
a  definite  position  by  his  appointment  to  tlie  chair  of 
Modern  History,  created  especially  for  him  by  M.  de 
Fontanes.  When  the  president  of  the  University  an- 
nounced the  appointment  to  M.  Guizot,  he  intimated 
that  the  Emperor  read  all  the  opening  speeches,  and 
Avas  accustomed  to  find  his  own  name  loudly  extolled 
in  them.  M.  Guizot  did  not  approve  of  despotism, 
and  altliough  he  cared  little  about  politics,  and  did 
not  take  any  active  part  in  the  opposition,  he  refused 
to  comply.  The  scene  took  place  at  Courbevoie,  in 
a  pretty  villa  where  M.  de  Fontanes  often  spent  some 
time  in  the  summer.  M.  Guizot  was  dining  with  him. 
The  President  gently  insisted.  On  ]\I.  Guizot's  reit- 
erated refusal  he  exclaimed,  smiling:  ' How  obstinate 
these  Protestants  are  !  I  must  get  but  of  the  scrape 
as  well  as  I  can.' 


■A  >/' 


EOYER  COLLARD. 


ENTRANCE    INTO   PUBLIC    LIFE.  47 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life  M.  Guizot  enjoyed  tlie 
pleasure  of  woi'king  Avith  complete  freedom,  and 
towards  a  definite  end.  Mademoiselle  de  Meulan 
had  formerly  written  to  him,  with  the  candour  which 
characterised  her :  '  You  write  always  better  about 
things  than  about  books,  because  you  see  in  a  book 
not  the  author's  conceptions  but  your  own,  which  are 
by  far  the  better  of  the  two.  You  imagine  that  the 
author  has  treated  his  subject  in  the  same  lofty  or 
reasonable  manner  in  which  you  would  have  treated 
it.  My  dear  friend,  you  make  a  much  better  author 
than  critic.  I  do  not  think  that  this  need  humiliate 
you.  To  be  able  to  carry  imagination  into  your 
criticisms  is  an  excellent  gift.' 

The  original  turn  of  M.  Guizot's  mind  was  in 
future  to  display  itself  in  the  vast  field  of  historical 
studies. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  M.  Guizot  became  con- 
nected with  M.  Royer-Collard,  Professor  of  Philos- 
opliy  in  the  Faculty  of  Literature.  The  Professor 
soon  treated  his  young  colleague  with  a  sympathy 
and  friendliness  by  which  M.  Guizot  was  deeply 
touched.  Thirty-two  years  later,  in  the  month  of 
September,  1845,  just  after  the  death  of  M.  Royer- 
Collard,  M.  Guizot  wrote  :  '  I  wish  for  some  details  of 
M.  Royer-Collard's  last  moments.  I  have  asked 
his  nephew  for  them.  I  shall  always  preserve  an 
aff'ectionate  and  grateful  remembrance  of  him.  I 
did  so  even  when  he  was  not  kind  to  me.  He  did 
a  great  deal  more  than  help  me  on  in  my  career :  he 
contributed  substantially  to  my  mental  and  personal 


48  MOIfSIEUR   GUIZOT    IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

development.  He  opened  to  me  views,  and  taught 
me  truths  which  without  liini  I  should  probably  have 
never  heard  of.  Such  a  service  is  far  supei-ior  to 
any  other,  and  far  more  rare.' 

M.  Guizot  also  attributed  to  his  wife  an  influential 
share  in  his  moral  and  intellectual  development. 

In  1814  M.  and  Madame  Guizot  went  to  Nimes. 
He  introduced  her  for  the  first  time  into  a  little 
world,  to  which  she  was  as  strange  as  it  was  new  for 
her.  He  was  called  back  to  fill  the  place  of  Secre- 
tary to  the  Abbe  de  Montesquiou  at  the  Home  Office 
(Ministere  de  Vlnteneur).  M.  Guizot  was  a  Liberal 
and  a  Protestant.  His  appointment  was  the  first  act 
of  the  new  Minister  to  whom  he  was  recommended 
by  M.  Royer-Collard.  It  was  not  without  an  eff"ort 
tliat  M.  Guizot  gave  up  his  studies  and  his  teaching. 
The  effort  was  still  greater  for  those  who  loved  him, 
and  who  did  not  relish  his  entering  public  life.  His 
mother,  especially,  dreaded  for  him  the  influence  and 
the  pitfalls  of  politics. 

'  In  1814,  his  wife  cared  little  for  politics ;  she 
disliked  their  platitude  and  monotony,  she  had  hoped 
for  better  things,  and  she  regretted  the  home  life  of 
work  and  conversation.'  * 

Regrets  were  vain,  for,  in  spite  of  M.  Guizot's 
frequent  return  to  the  purely  literary  employments 
which  were  still  to  fill  so  large  a  space  in  Ins  long 
life,  he  had  taken  his  place  once  for  all  in  politics, 


*  This  passage  is  from  M.  Guizot's  notes. 


ENTRANCE   INTO    PUBLIC   LIFE.  49 

and  politics  liad  for  ever  taken  tlieirs  in  In's  life. 
The  free  and  independent  exercise  of  his  mind  was 
no  longer  enough  to  absorb  it. 

It  was,  nevertheless,  without  regret  that  he  pre- 
pared to  return  to  his  lectures  when  the  Hundred 
Days  once  more  interrupted  the  quiet  of  France  and 
of  Europe.  But  the  Professor  was  not  so  soon  to 
re-occupy  his  chair.  The  unhappy  state  of  his 
country,  anxieties  for  its  future,  affected  him  too 
deeply  for  him  to  think  himself  justified  in  refusing 
the  mission  with  which  the  friends  of  Constitutional 
Monarchy  entrusted  him  to  the  exiled  Louis  XVIII. 
He  left  his  wife  in  Paris ;  she  was  expecting  the 
birth  of  her  second  child,  after  having  had  the  grief 
of  losing  her  first.  He  knew  not  when  he  should  be 
able  to  go  back  to  her,  or  if  the  situation  of  France 
would  allow  him  to  live  there  in  peace.  His  letters 
from  Ghent  bear  the  stamp  of  his  sorrow  and  his 
cares. 

'  June  4th.  —  I  had  a  cniel  moment,  yesterday, 
my  Pauline ;  on  a  sudden  the  news  was  spread  that 
there  was  fighting  going  on  in  Paris,  and  that  the  gar- 
rison of  Lille  had  received  orders  to  march  as  quicklv 
as  possible  against  the  rebels.  What  anguish !  There 
was  fighting  in  Paris,  and  you  were  there  alone ! 
I  ran  in  every  direction  to  ascertain  the  truth.  The 
news  was  entirely  false ;  we  are  assured  that  only 
two  regiments  got  into  a  quarrel  at  Meaux,  and  that 
a  few  of  the  wounded  were  taken  back  to  Paris.  A 
man  who  left  Paris  on  the  thii-tieth  of  May,  says  that 
all  at  that  time  was  tranquil.     May  God  be  praised ! 


50  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT    IN    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

But  how  shall  I  endure  the  idea  that  every  day, 
every  instant,  there  may  be  skirmishes,  revolts  in 
Paris,  and  I  shall  not  be  there  to  shield  you,  to 
watch  over  you  1  Heavens,  what  torture  !  How 
can  I  make  up  my  mind  to  it  ?  Ought  I  to  have 
had  any  other  thought  but  you  f 

'  Do  you  know  what  decided  me,  dearest  I  The 
wish  to  become  all  that  I  may  become,  so  that 
nothing  may  be  wanting  to  your  happiness  ;  to  fulfil 
every  duty  that  your  opinion  of  me  lii}'s  on  me.  My 
activity  and  my  ambition  are  all  for  you ;  it  is  for 
your  sake  that  I  will  not  neglect  any  opportunity  for 
distinguishing  myself. .  If  we  had  not  been  united  I 
should  have  gone  on  living  in  my  natural  idleness ; 
I  might  have  felt  by  fits  and  starts  the  wish  to  make 
use  of  my  faculties,  and  to  show  myself  as  I  am ;  but 
the  feeling  would  have  had  no  root,  my  indolence  and 
my  contempt  for  the  things  of  this  world  would  have 
almost  always  carried  the  day.  Dearest,  it  is  you 
who  give  me  strength,  vigour,  and  perseverance. 
You  are  sufficient  for  my  happiness,  when  I  am  with 
you  I  want  nothing,  for  I  regret  nothing;  but  all  that 
is  in  me  belongs  to  you,  and  I  dare  not  let  anything 
run  to  waste.  It  is  your  property  that  I  make  the 
most  of,  and  it  is  to  you  that  I  wish  to  offer  the 
fruits. 

'  Unfortunately,  since  the  day  when  I  had  an 
audience  of  the  King  I  have  had  nothing  to  do  here. 
I  do  not  know  if  there  wilV  be  any  change  in  this 
respect.  We  make  excursions,  we  pay  visits,  we  are 
bored,  and  this  is  all ;  a  council  is  held  scarcely  once 


ENTRANCE   INTO    PUBLIC    LIFE.  51 

a  fortnight ;  we  do  not  meet,  as  we  ought,  in  order 
to  discuss  matters,  to  prepare  for  future  events,  or  to 
understand  each  other's  views.  It  seems  as  if  liaving 
met  once,  all  has  been  said ;  we  comfort  ourselves 
by  repeating  that  there  is  nothing  to  be  done  ;  and 
yet  the  members  of  different  parties  observe  and 
attack  each  other  covertly  while  waiting  to  do  so 
openly ;  wise  men  have  no  hope  but  in  M.  de 
Talleyrand,  and  he  is  not  yet  come.  At  last  we 
are  assured  that  he  will  arrive  this  week.  God 
grant  that  he  may  have  a  sufficiently  eager  desire  to 
save  France,  and  the  courage  necessary  to  say  all 
that  his  position  allows  him  to  say  and  to  ask  for  — 
all  that  he  alone  is  able  to  obtain  !  If  he  brinofs 
with  him  his  usual  carelessness  and  indolence,  we 
are  lost.  Bonaparte  will  gain  nothing;  but  the 
Monarchy  will  never  be  firmly  established  in  France 
—  perhaps  it  Avill  never  be  re-established  at  all  — 
and  then  I  do  not  know  what  we  shall  have. 

'  One  must  have  seen  what  I  see  to  believe  in  it. 
No,  I  should  never  have  thought  it  possible  to  be  so 
blind!  "Bonaparte  has  dethroned  us;  after  the  fall 
of  Bonaparte  the  throne  will  be  ours  again :  we  will 
see  nothing  beyond  !  "  It  is  perhaps  acknowledged 
that  the  Ministry  was  incapable :  but  why  or  how  1 
What  was  the  hidden  evil  ?  to  what  ignorance  may 
the  faults  in  tlie  past  be  attributed?  Avhat  new  direc- 
tion shall  be  taken  ?  what  obstacles  turned  aside  in 
tlie  future  ?  All  these  are  things  about  which  a  cer- 
tain person  knows  and  cares  nothing.  And  even  if 
he  did  know  what  ought  to  be  done,  he  would  prob- 


62  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

ably  not  have  the  courage  to  attempt  it ;  "  it  would 
give  too  mucli  trouble ;  one  would  liave  to  remove 
so  many  objections,  to  get  rid  of  so  many  preten- 
sions, to  alter  so  many  liabits  of  life,  to  bear  so 
much  ill-humour :  it  is  better  to  sleep  in  peace  ;  at 
any  rate,  when  one  is  asleep  one  does  not  see  the 
precipice,  and  one  falls  into  it  without  having  had 
the  miseries  of  anticipation." 

'  This  inconceivable  apathy  is  surrounded  by  a 
thousand  petty  ambitions,  as  watchful  and  as  eager 
as  if  we  were  living  in  perfect  security.  Every  one 
talks,  and  every  one  expects  to  be  believed.  I  have 
not  yet  been  able  to  discover,  in  spite  of  all  that  has 
passed,  a  single  instance  of  humbled  vanity,  or  of 
baffled  pretensions.  I  meet  everywhere  the  same 
assurance,  the  same  language ;  there  is  a  little  more 
animation  than  there  would  have  been  if  Bonaparte 
had  not  turned  us  out  of  Paris,  because  each  party 
holies  to  obtain  by  this  crisis  a  triumph  over  its 
adversaries.  All  this  is  most  distressing  to  me,  and 
I  escape  from  the  misery  which  the  sight  occasions 
only  by  the  delightful  frivolity  which  distinguishes 
human  nature  —  by  means  of  a  pleasant  walk  or  an 
idle  conversation  —  from  agitating  thoughts  and 
ominous  apprehensions. 

'  I  have  seen  Pozzo  di  Borgo ;  he  came  here  two 
days  ago,  and  we  spent  an  hour  together.  He  is  a 
really  superior  man,  full  of  energy  and  intelligence. 
"  I  hope,"  he  said  to  me,  "  tliat  France  will  one  day 
know  the  services  I  have  rendered  her."  I  know  no 
one  who  is  a  better  judge  of  the  past  and  the  pres- 


ENTRANCE    INTO    PUBLIC    LIFE.  53 

ent,  or  whom  it  is  better  to  consult  as  to  the  future. 
Very  fortunately  he  is  much  esteemed  here,  at 
Vienna  and  at  Brussels,  and  by  those  who  hold  our 
fate  in  their  power.  Bonaparte  has  in  him  a  terrible 
enemy.  We  talked  a  great  deal  about  the  state  of 
France.  The  Kings  know  nothing  at  all  about  it. 
It  would  be  most  valuable  if  they  could  form  a  cor- 
rect idea  of  it;  they  believe  all  sorts  of  absurd 
stories  ;  they  are  as  bad  judges  of  men  as  of  things ; 
and  Pozzo  is  of  the  greatest  use  to  us  by  opening 
their  eyes,  by  enlightening  them,  and  by  checkmat- 
ing the  intrigues  which  are  being  constantly  plotted 
and  unplotted  around  them.' 

In  spite  of  all  this,  good  sense  and  wise  policy 
gained  the  day,  and  King  Louis  XVIII.  returned  to 
France  without  M.  de  Blacas,  Avho  was  in  reality 
less  dangerous  than  personally  offensive  to  the 
public,  who  considered  his  presence  as  a  symptom 
of  the  King's  intentions.  M.  Guizot's  friends  seemed 
likely  to  exercise  a  salutary  influence.  M.  de  Barbe- 
Marbois  was  Minister  of  Justice,  and  M.  Guizot  occu- 
pied under  him  the  post  of  Secretaire  General — a 
position  similar  to  that  which  he  had  formerly  held 
at  the  Home  Office,  under  the  Abbe  de  Montesquiou. 
He  did  not  stay  there  long.  Political  excitement, 
the  fear  of  another  revolution,  had  sent  to  the  Cham- 
ber of  Deputies  some  Royalist  members,  who  were 
so  ardent  and  intolerant,  that  they  could  not  endure 
even  the  men  of  the  ancien  regime  if  they  had  served 
the  Emperor,  or  preserved  any  of  the  traditions  of 
1789.      M.  de  Barbe-Marbois   was   odious   to   the 


54  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT    IN    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

Chamhre  introuvahle*     He  was  forced  to  retire,  and 
his  secretary  went  out  with  him. 

M.  Guizot's  position  was  now  only  that  of  Maitre 
des  Requetes  (legal  adviser)  to  the  Conseil  d'Etat. 
He  resumed  his  course  of  lectures,  and  continued  to 
take  a  lively  interest  in  the  struggle  which  M.  de 
Eichelieu  and  M.  Decazes  were  still  maintaining 
against  the  violence  of  the  Ultras. 

In  1816  he  wrote,  in  answer  to  a  paper  by  M.  de 
Vitrolles,  his  pamphlet.  On  Representative  Goveni- 
mrnt  and  the  Present  State  of  France.  In  the  same 
year  he  published  An  Essay  on  the  History  and  Pres- 
ent Condition  of  Puhlic  Education  in  France ;  and 
lastly,  he  contributed,  by  means  of  a  memorial,  for 
which  M.  Decazes  asked  him,  to  the  resolution  taken 
by  Louis  XVIII. ,  to  dissolve  the  Chamber  on  the 
fifth  of  September,  1816. 

Appointed  Conseiller  d'Etat  in  1818,  M.  Guizot 
helped  to  prepare  those  great  laws,  which  were  to 
lay  the  foundation  of  a  well-regulated  liberty  in 
France.  At  times  suggesting  to  M.  Laine  the  argu- 
ments which  had  to  be  matured  in  the  minister's 
mind  before  he  could  use  them  for  defending  the 
electoral  law  in  the  Chamber,  at  others,  preparing 
the  speeches  of  Marshal  Gouvion  Saint  Cyr  in 
favour  of  his  military  laws,  M.  Guizot  became  one 
of  the  most  active  supporters  of  the  Government, 
preserving,  meanwhile,  an  independence  of  thought 

*  Louis  XVIII.  himself  gave  this  name  to  the  new  Assembl}', 
which  he  was  astonished  to  find  contained  some  members  wlio 
were  even  more  royalist  than  their  king. 


ENTRANCE    INTO    PUBLIC    LIFE.  55 

and  of  conduct  which  sometimes  annoyed  his  friends 
in  office,  while  it  was  of  use  to  them.  Such  was 
frequently  the  fate  of  the  Doctrinaires* 

Their  influence  preponderated  when  M.  Decazes 
held  the  reins  of  government  in  July,  1819.  The 
new  minister  created  for  M.  Guizot  the  post  of 
Director  of  Commercial  and  Departmental  affairs 
imder  the  Home  Secretary,  which  put  him  in  prac- 
tical relations  with  the  whole  of  the  Government. 
He,  as  well  as  Madame  Guizot,  took  a  growing-  in- 
terest in  his  duties.  Every  one  nmst  remember  how 
the  assassination  of  the  Ducde  Berry,  on  the  thirteenth 
of  February,  1820,  by  giving  rise  to  absurd  fears 
and  odious  intrigues,  occasioned  the  fall  of  the 
Decazes  Ministry.  M.  de  Serre  separated  from  his 
old  friends,  and  became  Garde  des  Sceaux  (Keeper  of 
the  Privy  Seal) ;  he  struck  out  of  the  Conseil  d'Etat 
MM.  Royer-CoUard,  de  Barante,  Camille  Jordan, 
and  Guizot. 

M.  Guizot  quitted  Paris  for  a  few  months,  and 
established  himself  in  the  country,  near  Meulan,  in 
the  3Iaisonnette,  a  house  which  was  lent  to  him  by 
Madame  de  Condorcet.  He  was  writing  at  that  time 
an  essay  On  the  Government  of  France  since  the 
Restoration,  and  on  the  Present  Ministry,  and  he  re- 
turned alone  to  Paris  to  superintend  its  publication. 


*  This  was  the  name  given  to  the  little  group  of  distinguished 
men  who  acknowledged  M.  Royer-Collard  as  their  chief;  in  his 
youth  he  had  been  educated  in  a  College  of  Pretres  Doctrinaires 
(the  members  of  a  secular  congregation  called  the  Doctrine 
Chretienne).  —  Tb. 


56  MONSIEUR   6UIZ0T   IN    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

Madame  Guizot  and  her  son  remained  in  the  country. 
Separation  was  more  unbearable  than  ever  to  botli 
of  them,  for  they  had  resumed  their  tete-a-tete  hfe  in 
common. 

'  I  had  a  violent  headache  on  my  arrival '  (M. 
Guizot  writes  on  the  thirteenth  of  September,  1820) ; 
'  it  was  not  the  shaking  of  the  carriage,  but  sorrow 
for  having  left  you  that  gave  it  to  me.  Throughout 
the  journey  I  had  an  intolerable  heartache.  I  do 
not  complain ;  I  think  that,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  liked 
my  headache,  because  it  was  for  your  sake,  and  be- 
cause I  love  you.  Nevertheless,  you  must  not  enjoy 
this  luxury  on  your  side ;  sleep  well  and  take  care 
of  yourself.  My  headache  is  gone  this  morning ;  it 
would  come  back  if  I  were  uneasy  about  you.  I 
cannot  tell  you  how  happy  I  was  during  the  six 
weeks  which  are  just  ended  ;  I  knew  and  enjoyed- 
my  happiness  at  the  time,  I  feel  it  deeply  now  that 
it  is  over,  and  I  shall  enjoy  it  just  as  much  when  I 
return  to  you. 

'  I  carry  you  with  me,  you  are  present  with  me 
everywhere  ;  you  and  the  happiness  I  owe  to  you ; 
when  I  am  away  from  you  everything  reminds  me  of 
you ;  when  near  you  I  forget  everything  else  —  my 
very  soul  is  yours.  And  yet  I  feel  that  this  life,  so 
exclusively  devoted  to  you,  is  free,  active,  and  full  of 
wide  interests.  I  lavish  it  upon  you  every  instant, 
and  3'ou  give  it  back  to  me,  stronger  and  more  beau- 
tiful than  ever.  No,  my  Pauline,  we  shall  never 
know  all  that  we  are  to  each  other;  eternity  will 
not  be  too  long  for  our  happiness. 


ENTRANCE   INTO    PUBLIC    LIFE.  57 

'  While  waiting  for  eternity,  this  is  how  I  have 
employed  my  time  since  yesterday.     I  arrived  at 
six,  and  in  spite  of  my  headache  I  wrote  at  once  six 
notes.     We  call  this,  in  ministerial  slang,  tying  our 
strings.     After  writing  my  notes  I  dined  ;  at  eight 
o'clock  I  went  to  see  Royer.    I  found  that  three  days 
ago  he  underwent  an  operation.     An  abscess  had 
formed  behind  his  ear,  so  serious  as  to  render  Du- 
bois' knife  necessary.     Most  likely  he  will  be  well 
in  a  fortnight.      Dubois  has  treated  him  like  the 
apple  of  his  eye.     Royer,  therefore,  is  in  excellent 
spirits,  charmed  to  have  got  rid  of  his  torment,  and 
not  at  all  dismayed  as  to  the  future.     I  never  knew 
him  look  his  coming  position  so  boldly  in  the  face. 
On  the  whole,  I  think  I  see  clearly,  from  what  he 
said,  that  the  gloom  is  beginning  to  disappear,  and 
that  every  day  the  question  becomes  more  and  more 
exclusively  limited  to  the  composition  of  the  Min- 
istry.    Every  day,  too,  tlie  solution  of  this  question 
becomes  plainer.    It  is  said  that  the  Ministers  every 
week  strike  out  two  or  three  departments  from  the 
list  of  those  in  which  they  can  count  upon  favourable 
elections.     As  the  electoral  committees  cannot  meet 
before  the  fifth  or  sixth  of  November,  there  are  still 
fifteen  or  sixteen  to  be  struck  out.     This  is  promis- 
ing.    People  seem  to  think,  however,  that  de  Serre 
is  the  only  minister  who  is  prepared  for  acts  of  arbi- 
trary power  {coups  d'etat)  if  the  elections  prove  un- 
favourable.    Should  this  occur  the  others  talk  only 
of  retiring.     Do  you  remember  that  old  humbug, 
Senator  Cornet,  who  used  to  say,  "I  have  always 


58  MONSIEUK   GUIZOT   IN    PRIVATE   LIFE. 

observed  that  the  generous  are  those  that  fall ! "  In 
spite  of  all  that  he  has  done  de  Serre  is  generous, 
and  he  will  fall.' 

On  the  sixteenth  Madame  Guizot  wrote :  '  I  am 
well,  only  rather  sleepy,  in  consequence  of  a  detes- 
table night.  If  there  were  no  writing  to  be  done  I 
should  have  nothing  to  complain  of,  but  it  is  a  great 
misfortune  for  me  that  I  cannot  make  literary  work 
agree  with  the  rest  of  my  life.  If  it  were  possible 
for  me  to  give  myself  entirely  up  to  it  by  devoting 
all  my  time  and  thoughts  to  it  as  you  do  when  you 
want  to  write  well,  I  should  write  well  too.  I  still 
have  the  power  of  so  doing,  but  I  have  not  that  of 
passing  continually  from  one  life  to  another ;  from 
the  multitude  of  feelings,  cares,  and  thoughts  con- 
nected with  other  lives,  to  those  conceptions  which  I 
alone  can  originate.  When  I  am  not  writing  I  am 
you,  or  I  belong  to  my  child,  I  think  of  what  you 
are  doing,  of  what  I  have  to  do  for  my  boy.  In 
order  to  write  I  must  be  myself  only,  and  I  have 
no  time  for  such  transitions.  I  exhaust  myself,  and 
I  have  no  power  left  for  anything. 

'  My  dearest  love,  I  tell  you  this,  not  that  you  or 
I  or  anybody  can  help  me,  but  in  order  that  you 
may  be  aware  of  it,  and  that  I  may  not  add  to  the 
idea  which  pursues  me  of  not  being  all  that  I  ought 
to  be,  the  notion  that  you  think  I  am  not  all  that  I 
ought  to  be.  I  am  dissatisfied  with  myself,  but  I 
do  not  want  you  to  be  so,  and  yet  I  do  not  wish  to 
deceive  you ;  it  is  nevertheless  true  that  when  I 
accuse  myself  I  feel  at  the  same  time  a  wish  to  ex- 


ENTRANCE    INTO    PUBLIC    LIFE.  59 

cuse  myself  to  you ;  you  are  the  only  person  in  the 
world  from  whom  I  wish  to  obtain  more  than  I  de- 
serve. And  how  can  I  help  desiring  all  that  you 
can  give  me  ?  Ah  !  my  love,  the  world  is  too  small 
and  too  weak  for  us,  and  we  ourselves  are  too  feeble 
for  all  that  is  within  us.  But  do  not  let  us  think  of 
these  things.  An  active  life  is,  I  believe,  the  regi- 
men best  suited  to  preserve  the  balance  of  our  minds; 
it  benefits  our  bodily  frames  which  would  not  other- 
wise be  able  to  bear  tlie  wear  and  tear  of  a  mind 
constantly  contemplating  itself  It  is  necessary, 
therefore  :  —  let  us  talk  of  something  else. 

'  Your  poor  little  boy  was  yesterday  in  a  state  of 
real  agitation  and  distress  at  having  received  no 
answer  from  you.  He  expects  one  this  evening. 
You  have  no  idea  how  constantly  he  thinks  of  you, 
dear  little  fellow.  I  am,  however,  obliged  often  to 
find  fault  with  him :  it  is  very  difficult  to  gain  his 
attention.  It  is  a  real  effort  for  him  —  especially  in 
studying,  much  less  in  writing.  He  will  be  like  me ;  it 
will  be  easier  for  him  to  give  out  than  to  take  in. 
He  is  carried  away  by  his  imagination,  which  is  very 
easily  stimulated.  Since  you  went  he  has  taken  it 
into  his  head  to  be  friglitened  at  night  because  there 
are  only  women  in  the  house.  Yesterday  I  showed 
him  Raphael's  St.  Michael.  He  was  frightened  at 
tlie  devil,  although  he  tried  not  to  show  it.  He  will 
need  strong  reasoning  powers,  and  if  we  two  do  not 
succeed  in  strengthening  them  it  will  go  hard  with 
him.  Good-bye,  I  shall  soon  see  you  again.  Do  you 
feel  as  I  do  all  the  happiness  this  means?     When 


60  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT    IN"   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

you  are  with  me,  leisure,  at  any  rate,  rests  me ; 
when  you  are  away  work  is  what  I  least  dislike ; 
but  I  begin  without  energy ;  it  comes  back  to  me  as 
I  go  on.     Again  and  again  farewell ! ' 

Madame  Guizot  went  on  writing  in  spite  of  the 
painful  effort  that  it  cost  her.  Always  delicate,  the 
burdens  formerly  laid  upon  her  were  greatly  increased 
by  mental  anxiety,  and  permanently  affected  her 
health.  Her  courage  did  not  give  way;  when  it 
seemed  for  an  instant  to  fail  her  she  recovered  it  with 
a  tremendous  effort,  -and  the  development  of  her 
religious  faith  soothed  her  anxious  spirit;  but  her 
perfect  frankness,  the  need  she  always  felt  of  ex- 
pressing all  her  thoughts,  sometimes  laid  bare  the 
struggles  of  her  mind  and  heart,  especially  when 
she  was  separated  from  the  confidant  of  all  her  emo- 
tions. There  never  was  any  one  more  thoroughly 
true,  or  who  longed  so  constantly  for  truth  and 
perfection  in  others.  This  longing  of  hers  was  a 
salutary  incentive  to  well-doing  for  all  who  ap- 
proached her :  it  was  sometimes  rather  irritating  to 
tliose  who  did  not  aim  so  high ;  but  it  exerted  on  all 
who  were  worthy  of  her  a  powerful  influence. 

Some  years  before  this  period  her  sister,  Madame 
Dillon,  married  for  the  second  time  M.  de  Vaines, 
Prefect  of  Bar-le-Duc,  and  afterwards  of  Nimes. 
The  Mademoiselles  Dillon  often  stayed  with  their 
aunt :  the  elder,  lillisa,  spent  part  of  the  summer  of 
1820  at  the  Maisonnette,  and  Madame  Guizot's  in- 
fluence on  the  mind  of  her  young  niece  increased 
with  every  year. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

1821-22. 

LITERARY  OCCUPATIONS  OF  M.    AND  MADAME  GUIZOT. 

The  complications  of  family  duties  often  necessitate 
painful  sacrifices.  M.  Guizot's  mother,  however, 
was  not  forgotten,  although  the  part  she  now  had  to 
play  was,  of  course,  a  small  one  for  one  who  possessed 
such  ardent  affections.  The  distance  at  which  she 
lived,  the  task  she  was  faithfully  fulfilling  at  the  side 
of  her  old  parents,  the  narrow  means  of  the  whole 
family,  made  journeys  rare  and  difficult ;  neverthe- 
less, in  1821  M.  and  Madame  Guizot  spent  two 
months  at  Nimes.  M.  Guizot  was  working  at  his 
pamphlet,  '  On  the  means  of  Government,  and  Oppo- 
sition in  the  piresent  state  of  France.^ 

Madame  Guizot  had  undertaken  the  revision  of 
Letouueur's  translation  of  Shakespeare.  She  had 
just  finished  her  little  novel,  L'tlcoUer,  a  work  of 
real  value  in  a  simple  and  lively  style ;  it  was  on 
the  point  of  publication.  M.  Guizot  could  not  fin- 
ish his  pamphlet  without  returning  for  a  few  weeks 
to  the  atmosphere  of  political  life  in  Paris.  He 
went  thither  alone  in  the  month  of  September,  leav- 
ing his  wife  in  the  country  near  Montargis  with  her 


62  MONSIEUR   GUrZOT    IN    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

second  brother,  General  de  Menlan,  married  to 
Mademoiselle  Aline  de  Turpin-Crisse. 

This  was  another  trial  of  the  bitterness  of  separ- 
ation. 

On  the  twenty-ninth  of  September  Madame  Guizot 
wrote:  'If  I  did  not  expect  to  get  on  with  my 
work  during  this  month,  what,  I  ask,  would  be  the 
good  of  living  through  it  ?  Occupied  only  in  bear- 
ing it,  what  advantage  can  I  derive  from  it  ?  What- 
ever you  may  say,  I  like  life  only  when  it  bears  me 
on,  not  when  I  have  to  bear  it ;  like  money,  it  is  for 
me  a  means,  not  an  end.  I  am  happy,  the  happiest 
creature  upon  earth,  I  love  life  because  I  love  hap- 
piness ;  but,  away  from  you,  I  do  not  live,  there  is 
between  me  and  happiness  a  cloud  which  prevents 
its  rays  from  reaching  me  in  all  their  fulness  and 
purity.  There,  in  my  heart,  the  seat  of  all  my  hap- 
piness, I  feel  something  that  does  not  resemble  it, 
something  that  warns  me  of  its  absence,  and  makes 
me  impatient  to  get  over  the  time  which  I  generally 
spend  in  being  happy.  You  see  that  it  would  be  a 
very  good  thing  to  cut  out  this  period.  I  would 
willingly  part  with  as  many  months  of  this  kind  as 
may  be  in  store  for  me ;  I  should  not  cast  a  glance 
after  them.  I  am  not,  however,  out  of  temper.  I 
do  not  get  ci-oss  with  the  days  as  they  pass ;  I  only 
say  to  them,  "  You  are  not  worth  the  trouble  you 
give  me." 

A  few  days  later  she  wrote  :  — 

'  What  you  say  of  the  continuance  of  our  present 
position  I  have  long  thought.     I  think  a  great  deal 


LITERARY    OCCUPATIONS.  63 

about  it ;  not  that  I  am  uneasy  as  regards  pecuniary 
matters  —  I  am  quite  sure  that  we  shall  manage  in 
that  respect :  but  it  has  an  appearance  of  expectation 
which  I  do  not  like.     I  do  not  know  how  to  change 
this,  or  if  it  can  be  changed  ;  it  is  enough  for  me  to 
point  it  out  to  you,  in  order  that  if  you  agree  with 
me  you  may  turn  your  mind  to  the  subject.     Any 
long  and  important  literary  work  would  be  enough 
to  change  this  aspect :  something  more  than  a  polit- 
ical essay,  which  takes  only  six  months,  would  suit 
us  in  this  respect.     We  must  wait  upon  oppoi-tunity  ; 
no  one  is  more  convinced  of  this  than  I  am ;  but  I 
talk  about  it  because  one  seizes  it  better  when  one  is 
prepared  beforehand.     I  do  not  yet  know  if  you  will 
agree  with  me,  but  it  seems  to  me,  that  with  this  end 
in  view,  it  would  be  as  well  to  announce,  either  in 
the  preface  or  elsewhere,  —  or  rather,  to  indicate, 
without  making  any  distinct  assertion,  that  you  do 
not  intend  to  continue  to  bring  out  a  pamphlet  every 
year  on  tlie  events  of  the  day.     It  seems  to  me  that 
this  may  be  suggested  without  being  exactly  said, 
by  remarking  that,   as  long  as  this  Ministry  lasts, 
only  some  trifling  modifications  can  take  place  in  the 
administration  —  not  worth  the  trouble  of  pointing 
out. 

'  You  are  not  certain,  then,  that  M.  Royer  will  be 
elected.  I  am  sorry ;  it  will  be  a  misfortune.  We 
must  have  lost  a  great  deal  in  that  direction,  as  in 
many  others.  But,  my  dear  good  friend,  it  is  not 
the  defection  of  electors  of  that  stamp,  or  even  a 
little  superior  to  them,  that  ought  to  make  you  lose 


64  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT    IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

faith  in  mankind.  There  is  a  natural  aristocracy  in 
the  human  race,  as  there  is  in  nations  ;  in  these 
nobler  natures  we  should  place  our  confidence,  just 
as  political  riglits  are  vested  in  the  higher  classes  of 
the  nation  ;  all  the  rest  is  the  mob  —  and  it  is  very- 
numerous.  And,  besides,  I  must  tell  you  that  I  do 
not  know  what  you  mean  by  having  no  faith  in 
men  ;  one's  faith  was  never  a  quality  of  theirs  ;  one 
has  faith  in  one's  own  judgment,  which  chooses  from 
among  tlie  crowd  the  men  in  whom  one  has  faith ; 
if  one  has  been  mistaken  it  is  in  oneself  that  one 
loses  one's  trust;  other  people  lose  nothing,  and 
oneself  gains  a  good  deal  —  the  habit  of  thinking 
twice.  I  carry  within  myself  a  type  which  no  power 
can  destroy  ;  even  if  I  had  never  found  anything 
resembling  it,  it  would  have  lost  for  me  no  jot  of  its 
beauty  or  of  its  reality  ;  I  should  have  lived  with  its 
image,  and  I  should  have  cared  for  nothing  else. 
Dearest,  I  have  found  this  ideal  of  excellence  ;  I  am 
fated  to  spend  my  life  with  it ;  I  have  devoted  to  it 
my  whole  existence.  Indeed,  I  assure  you,  that  if 
even  the  whole  world  were  worthy  of  contempt,  I 
should  still  possess  a  treasure  which  I  have  not  the 
power  in  this  life  of  loving  as  much  as  I  ought. 

'  Yes,  here  is  one  Aveek  gone  ;  I  never  expected  as 
much  :  this  gives  me  hope  for  the  rest.  I  have  made 
the  same  remark  in  travelling ;  one  gets  over  only 
one  mile  and  one  day  at  a  time,  and  each  day  that 
passes  does  not  add  much  to  the  niimber  of  those 
that  are  gone ;  in  each  one  feels  the  pain  of  separa- 
tion as  acutely  and  as  completely ;  but  only  at  the 


LITERARY   OCCUPATIONS.  65 

instant  wlien  one  feels  the  weight  of  the  whole  num- 
ber—  which  we  ought  to  distribute  equully  over 
the  whole  time  —  at  once,  is  one  overwhelmed  by 
it.  We  feel  the  passions  which  belong  to  the  states 
in  which  we  are  not,  at  the  same  time  with  those 
which  belong-  to  the  state  in  which  we  are.  "  But 
sufficient  for  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof,"  and  this  is 
how  we  continue  to  live  and  to  endure. 

'  When  will  you  begin  to  print  ?  I  am  eager  to 
read  you.  Are  you  aware  that  for  the  first  time 
since  I  have  known  you  a  work  of  yours  will  apjiear 
that  I  have  not  read  beforehand  1  I  am  curious  to 
see  the  effect  it  will  produce  on  me ;  I  am  sure  that 
at  first  I  shall  receive  only  a  confused  impression,  so 
many  things  —  feelings  and  ideas  —  will  be  mingled 
while  I  am  reading.' 

*  I  have  just  corrected  my  first  proof,'  M.  Guizot 
writes,  on  the  fifth  of  October ;  '  you  see  that  no 
time  has  been  lost.  I  now  wish  that  any  success 
that  I  may  obtain  were  over :  not  that  I  am  indiffer- 
ent to  it,  on  the  contrary,  I  should  greatly  enjoy  it ; 
but  the  petty  details  consequent  on  a  success,  the 
hash  made  up  of  compliments,  praises,  and  fine 
speeches,  displeases  and  worries  me.  I  wish  that 
when  once  the  work  were  done  and  had  produced 
its  desired  effect,  one  might  dispense  with  all  this 
empty  chatter,  the  vulgar  satisfaction  of,  childish 
vanity.  I  reproach  myself,  however,  for  my  increas- 
ing anxiety  about  my  reputation :  I  can  do  nothing 
which  is  more  than  half  approved.     After  all,  this 

5 


66  MONSIEUR    GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

may  be  a  good  tiling :  it  cannot  be  helped,  whatever 
happens.  You  know  that  with  regard  to  action  or 
authorship,  when  I  have  done  my  best  I  am  dis- 
jjosed  to  care  little  for  the  result,  whatever  it  may  be. 

'  Your  letter,  to-morrow,  will  tell  me  what  you 
think  of  the  quotation  from  Omer  Talon ;  it  is  not 
exactly  as  I  told  you,  but  such  as  it  is,  it  suits  me 
very  well  for  a  motto :  "  Empires  have  no  critical 
days  or  years ;  their  fortunes  do  not  depend  upon 
the  celestial  bodies ;  no  genius  presides  over  them, 
and  no  fate  impels  them  that  is  not  the  result  of 
good  or  bad  government."  Or  what  do  you  say  to 
this  one  taken  from  Seneca :  "  Sanabilibus  segrota- 
mus  malis  —  We  sicken  of  ills  which  can  be  cured  : " 
it  has  its  merits,  but  I  like  Talon's  better,  both  in 
itself,  and  because  I  prefer  a  French  motto. 

'  Your  novel  appears  on  the  day  after  to-morrow 
—  a  singular  coincidence  —  we  are  marching  side 
by  side :  I  do  not  complain.  Perhaps  it  would  have 
been  better  to  put  an  interval  of  two  months  between 
our  publications,  the  ill-humour  which  I  shall  arouse 
may,  perhaps,  extend  to  you ;  but  I  do  not  think 
that  you  will  care.  My  Pauline,  we  are  always 
united,  always  the  same  career,  the  same  life.' 

'  General  Cambronne  dined  at  Lille  with  the 
King  of  England ;  he  drank  nothing  but  water, 
while  the  English  were  gorging  themselves  with 
wine ;  and  he  uttered  only  this  one  speech :  the 
King  admired  white  uniforms,  M.  de  la  Chatre  said, 
"  They  have  one  advantage,  each  regiment  may 
have  different  facings,  so  as  to  strike  the  eye,  and 


LITERARY    OCCUPATIONS.  67 

make  it  easy  after  a  battle  to  find  out  the  regiment 
to  which  each  sokher  belongs."  "  We  were  600,000 
men,  all  in  blue,"  retorted  Cambronne,  "and  we 
always  recognised  each  other  easily."  After  this  he 
relapsed  into  silence. 

'  I  went  yesterday  to  the  Gazza  Ladra ;  there  are 
three  or  four  songs  in  it  admirable  in  expression ; 
rich  and  as  pathetic  as  the  finale  in  the  Agnese.  I 
longed  for  you  there,  as  I  do  everywhere ;  the  story 
itself,  foolish  as  it  is,  interested  me  extremely.  A 
father,  who  is  a  soldier,  condemned  as  a  deserter; 
a  servant  girl  condemned  as  a  thief ;  both  of  them 
innocent ;  the  deepest  feelings  in  the  simplest  natures, 
the  most  powerful  situations  in  the  most  obscure 
destinies ;  there  is  something  new  and  dramatic  in 
all  this.  It  is  a  mistake  to  lay  the  scene  of  a  drama 
in  the  middle  classes  —  in  those  moderate  circimi- 
stances  where  everything  is  often  common  without 
being  simple.  Natural  ideas  and  feelings  in  un- 
cultured minds,  tragical  combinations  of  human  life 
in  a  completely  secluded  sphere,  the  sort  of  events 
which  excite  and  develop  the  whole  being  in  natures 
that  have  lived  quite  apart  from  the  world  and  are 
not  merely  pale  reflections  of  the  upper  classes ; 
liere  is  a  source  which  afl'oi-ds  very  true  and  intensely 
striking  situations.  A  middle-class  tragedy  is  almost 
necessarily  puerile  and  exaggerated ;  a  lower-class 
tragedy  may  be  simple  and  terrible,  it  may  portray 
strong,  but  not  declamatory  passions  ;  dramatic,  but 
not  romantic  situations.  The  laws  of  society  origi- 
nate in  the  higher  classes  ;  when  they  reach  the  lower, 


68  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN    PKIVATE    LIFE. 

all  sorts  of  incongruities  tcake  place.  Extreme  pov- 
erty, pressing-  and  always  repressed  necessities,  very 
natural  and  very  noble  complications,  situations 
which  the  usual  course  of  events  touches  and 
destroys  without  any  reason  or  any  mercy  because 
the  individual  sufferers  attract  no  attention  before- 
hand—  in  short,  the  whole  force  of  human  nature, 
with  every  nerve  strained  in  struggling  with  all  the 
vicissitudes,  all  the  possibilities  of  destiny  —  a  man 
of  genius  might  find  here  a  mine  of  the  newest  and 
most  powerful  effects. 

'  I  let  myself  go  on  describing  to  you  the  im- 
pressions of  a  few  hours,  I  ought  to  tell  you  a 
thousand  other  things.  This  morning  I  read  by  way 
of  relaxation,  Madame  de  Stael's  Ten  Years  of  Exile. 
It  is  a  strang-e  book,  and  it  touched  me  more  than  I 
can  say.  A  woman  so  tender  and  so  passionate, 
contending  with  the  strength  and  dryness  of  Bona- 
parte ;  too  moral  to  act  from  complaisance,  too  weak 
not  to  regret  all  she  renounces ;  letting  herself  down 
in  a  degree  by  the  frank  avowal  of  all  she  suffere, 
and  at  the  same  time  raising-  herself  in  our  estimation 
by  her  invincible  resistance  to  a  power  Avhich  she 
can  neither  accept  nor  despise ;  all  this  forms  a  very 
original  and  touching  combination.  But  we  will 
talk  about  this  and  about  everything,  my  Pauline;  for 
without  you,  nothing  is  complete  for  me.  I  am,  if 
you  will,  tlie  centre  of  our  common  life  ;  but  when 
you  are  not  there,  a  part  of  me  is  wanting ;  and 
I  look  about  me  for  tliat  lialf  of  myself,  whose 
absence  makes  the  other  half  pine    away,  as  tlie 


LITERARY    OCCUPATIONS.  69 

blessed  souls  would   pine  were   they  driven  from 
Paradise. 

'  What  a  volume  I  have  written  to  you  !  and  I 
don't  know  why  I  should  stop,  for  I  have  thousands 
of  things  to  tell  you.  God  did  well  when  he  took  a 
rib  from  Adam  to  create  Eve,  but  He  ought  not  to 
have  entirely  separated  them ;  He  ought  to  have  made 
them  hold  together  in  some  way  that  would  make 
absence  impossible.  Good-bye,  good-bye,  I  have 
quantities  of  other  letters  to  write.' 

The  strong  and  noble  friendship  with  which 
Madame  Guizot  carried  her  watchfulness  into  the 
smallest  details  of  their  common  life,  induced  her  to 
entreat  her  husband  not  to  allow  himself  often  to  be 
drawn  into  the  temptation  of  giving  his  opinion  on 
the  actions  of  a  Government  over  which  he  had  no 
influence.  The  reins  of  power  at  length  dropped 
from  the  honest  but  weak  hands  which  had  tried  in 
vain  to  direct  its  course  in  a  moderately  liberal 
road ;  the  Riglit  *  seized  them  for  a  long  period,  and 
Madame  Guizot  no  longer  tried  to  keep  her  champion 
away  from  tlie  new  arena  wliich  he  entered  openly 
under  the  banner  of  the  Opposition. 

It  was  a  time  of  political  plots  and  prosecutions. 
In  1821   M.  Guizot  published  a  pamphlet  on  Con- 


*  In  French  political  language  the  Droit  always  means  the 
Conservative  side  of  the  Chamber ;  the  Gauche,  the  Liberal  side. 
Both  the  Droit  and  tlie  Gauche  are  divided  into  three  shades  of 
opinion  ;  for  instance,  the  Left,  the  Left-Centre,  and  the  Extreme 
Left ;  in  the  same  way,  the  Eight,  the  Eight-Centre,  and  the 
Extreme  Eight.  —  Te. 


70  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT    IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

spiracles  and  Political  Justice  ;  in  June  1822  lie  left 
Bois-Milet  to  print  his  little  volume  On  Capital 
Punishment  for  Political  Offences.  The  public  feelinn- 
agreed  with  him,  and  was  averse  to  the  exercise  of 
administrative  severity.  A  great  many  acquittals 
took  place. 

'  I  will  explain  to  you  the  affair  at  Nantes,'  M. 
Guizot  writes  on  the  twenty-fourth  of  June.  '  There 
was  no  regular  plot,  but  a  secret  association  strongly 
bound  together  and  ready  to  seize  its  opportunity, 
as  was  the  case  on  the  other  side  in  1817.  The  force 
of  public  opinion  caused  an  acquittal,  the  jurors,  al- 
though chosen  one  by  one,  were  not  able  to  resist  it. 
Four  days  ago  Corbieres  said  in  his  drawing-room 
that  he  was  very  glad  that  the  prisoners  had  been 
acquitted,  for  otherwise  civil  war  would  have  im- 
doubtedly  broken  out  in  Brittany.  It  is  possible  that 
a  similar  resvilt  will  take  place  at  Colmar.  Society, 
without  moving  its  little  finger,  will  defend  itself  much 
better  than  is  expected.  You  are  right  in  hoping 
that  all  this  will  disgust  people  with  conspiracies. 

'  The  misfortune  is  that  I  am  obliged  to  stay  here 
to  correct  my  proofs ;  I  have  sought  for  reasons 
against  reason,  and  I  have  found  none.  In  spite  of 
all  our  wishes  and  endeavours,  reason,  invincible 
reason,  preserves  its  despotic  indepe^ndence,  and  in 
spite  of  us  and  against  us  tells  us  what  is  wise, 
reasonable,  and  true.  Really  I  should  be  wrong  not 
to  finish  my  work.  I  constantly  change  a  word 
here  and  a  sentence  there,  in  consequence  of  Avhat  I 
am  told  and  of  what  I  see,  and  these  changes  are  of 


LITERARY    OCCUPATIONS.  71 

some  importance.  I  must  be  especially  careful  to 
say  nothing  too  bitter,  for  at  tliis  moment  this  would 
be  to  fail  utterly.  I  must  not  make  a  mistake  of 
this  kind.' 

While  M.  Guizot  was  correcting  his  proofs,  calling 
on  his  publishers  and  preparing  future  work  for  his 
wife  and  himself,  he  was  going  on  studying  for  his 
course  of  lectures,  which  he  resumed  in  1820,  on  the 
History  of  the  Origin  of  Representative  Govern- 
ment. 

'  My  object  was  to  combat  revolutionaiy  theories, 
and  to  attach  interest  and  respect  to  the  past  history 
of  France.  We  had  scarcely  emerged  from  the 
most  furious  struggle  against  that  old  French  society, 
our  secular  cradle ;  our  hearts,  if  not  still  overflow- 
ing with  anger,  were  indifferent  towards  it,  and  our 
minds  were  confusedly  imbued  with  the  ideas,  true 
or  false,  under  which  it  had  fallen.  The  time  had 
come  for  clearing  out  that  arena  covered  with  ruins, 
and  for  substituting,  in  thought  as  in  fact,  equity  for 
hostility,  and  the  principles  of  liberty  for  the  arms 
of  the  Revolution ;  an  edifice  is  not  built  with 
machines  of  war;  neither  can  a  free  system  be 
founded  on  ignorant  prejudices  and  inveterate  antip- 
athies. I  encountered,  at  every  step  throughout  my 
course,  the  great  problems  of  social  organization  un- 
der the  name  of  which  parties  and  classes  exchangd 
such  heavy  blows  —  the  sovereignty  of  the  people 
and  the  right  divine  of  kings,  monarchy,  and  repub- 
licanism, aristocracy  and  democracy,  the  unity  or 
division  of  power,  and  the  various  systems  of  elec- 


72  MONSIEUB   GUIZOT   IN    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

tion,  constitution,  and  action  of  the  assemblies  called 
to  co-operate  in  government.  I  entered  upon  all 
these  questions  with  a  firm  determination  to  sift 
thoroughly  the  ideas  of  our  own  time,  and  to  sepa- 
rate revolutionary  excitement  and  fantasies  from  tlie 
advances  of  justice  and  liberty,  reconcilable  with 
the  eternal  laws  of  social  order.  By  the  side  of  this 
philosophic  undertaking  I  pursued  another,  exclu- 
sively historical ;  I  endeavoured  to  demonstrate  the 
intermitting  but  always  recurring  efforts  of  French 
society  to  emerge  from  the  violent  chaos  in  which  it 
had  been  originally  formed,  sometimes  produced  by 
the  conflict,  and  at  others  by  the  accordance,  of  its 
diiferent  elements  —  royalty,  nobility,  clergy,  citi- 
zens, and  people  —  throughout  the  different  phases 
of  that  harsh  destiny,  and  the  glorious,  although 
incomplete,  development  of  French  civilization,  such 
as  the  Revolution  had  compiled  it  after  so  many 
combats  and  vicissitudes.  I  particularly  wished  to 
associate  old  France  with  the  remembrance  and 
intelligence  of  new  generations,  for  there  was  as 
little  sense  as  justice  in  decrying  or  despising  our 
fathers,  at  the  veiy  moment  when,  equally  misled  in 
our  time,  we  were  taking  an  immense  step  in  the 
same  path  which  they  had  followed  for  so  many 
ages. 

'  I  expounded  these  ideas  before  an  audience  little 
disposed  to  adopt  or  even  to  take  any  interest  in 
them.  The  public  who  at  that  time  attended  my 
lectures  were  much  less  numerous  and  varied  than 
they   became   some   years   later.     They   consisted 


LITERARY    OCCTJPATIONS.  73 

chiefly  of  young  men,  pupils  of  the  different  scien- 
tific schools,  and  of  a  few  curious  amateurs  of  great 
historical  disquisitions.  The  one  class  were  not  pre- 
pared for  the  questions  I  proposed,  and  wanted  the 
preparatory  knowledge  which  would  have  rendered 
them  acceptable.  With  many  of  the  rest,  precon- 
ceived ideas  of  the  eighteenth  century  and  the 
Revolution,  in  matters  of  historical  and  political 
philosophy,  had  already  acquired  that  strength 
derived  from  inveterate  habit,  which  rejects  discus- 
sion and  listens  coldly  and  distrustfully  to  all  that 
differs  from  their  own  opinions.  Others,  again,  and 
amongst  these  were  the  most  active  and  accessible 
dispositions,  were  more  or  less  engaged  in  the  secret 
societies,  hostile  intrigues,  and  plots.  "With  these 
my  opposition  was  considered  extremely  supine.  I 
had  thus  many  obstacles  to  surmount  and  many 
conversions  to  effect  before  I  could  bring  over  to 
my  own  views  the  small  circle  that  listened  to  my 
arguments. 

'  But  there  is  always,  in  a  French  audience,  what- 
ever may  be  their  prejudices,  an  intellectual  elas- 
ticity, a  relish  for  efforts  of  the  mind,  and  new  ideas 
boldly  set  forward,  and  a  certain  liberal  equity, 
which  disposes  them  to  sympathise  ;  even  thoi;gh 
they  may  hesitate  to  admit  conviction.  I  was  at  the 
same  time  Liberal  and  anti-revolutionary,  devoted  to 
the  fundamental  principles  of  the  new  French  social 
system,  and  animated  by  an  affectionate  respect  for 
our  ancient  reminiscences.  I  •was  opposed  to  the 
ideas  which  constituted   the    political    faith  of  the 


74  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN    PRIVATE   LIFE. 

greater  portion  of  my  auditors.  I  propounded  others 
which  appeared  suspicious  to  them,  even  while  they 
seemed  just;  they  considered  me  as  made  up  of 
obscurities,  contradictions,  and  prospective  views, 
which  astonished  and  made  them  hesitate  to  follow 
me.  At  the  same  time  they  felt  that  I  was  serious 
and  sincere;  they  became  gradually  convinced  that 
my  historic  impartiality  was  not  indifferent,  nor  my 
political  creed  a  leaning  towards  the  old  system,  nor 
my  opposition  to  every  kind  of  subversive  plot  a 
truckling  complaisance  for  power.  I  gained  ground 
in  the  estimation  of  my  listeners ;  some  amongst  the 
most  distinguished  came  decidedly  over  to  my  views, 
others  began  to  entertain  doubts  on  the  soundness 
of  their  theories  and  the  utility  of  their  conspiring' 
practices  ;  nearly  all  agreed  with  my  just  apprecia- 
tion of  the  past,  and  my  recommendation  of  patient 
and  legal  opposition  to  the  mistakes  of  the  present. 
The  revolutionary  spirit  in  this  young  and  ardent 
section  of  the  public  was  visibly  on  the  decline,  not 
from  scepticism  and  apathy,  but  because  other  ideas 
and  sentiments  occupied  its  place  in  their  hearts,  and 
drove  it  out  to  make  room  for  their  own  admission.'* 
The  Cabinet  of  1822  thought  differently ;  it  was  ir- 
ritated by  the  language  of  M.  Guizot  and  his  friends, 
M.  Guizot's  course  was  closed  on  the  twelfth  of  Octo- 
ber, 1822,  when  the  professor  was  preparing  his 
subject  for  the  Avinter.  '  My  lectures  being  inter- 
dicted,   all   immediate    political    influence    became 

*  From  M.   Guizot's  Memoirs  to  illustrate  tlie  History  of  my 
Time,  English  translation,  Bentley  &  Co.,  vol.  i.  p.  300.  —  Tn. 


LITERARY    OCCUPATIONS.  75 

impossible  to  me.  To  struggle  beyond  the  circle  of 
the  Chambers  against  tlie  existing  system  it  was 
necessary  either  to  conspire  or  to  descend  to  a  blind, 
perverse,  and  futile  opposition.  Neither  of  these 
coui-ses  was  agreeable ;  I  therefore  completely  re- 
nounced all  party  contentions,  even  philosophical 
and  abstracted,  to  seek  elsewhere  the  means  of  still 
mentally  serving  my  cause  with  reference  to  the 
future '  * 

For  a  long  time  Madame  Guizot  had  been  anxious 
to  obtain  for  her  husband,  as  well  as  for  herself,  a 
work  of  some  lengtli.  She  was  writing  another 
volume  of  stories,  but  it  was  only  to  fill  up  an 
interval ;  she  was  planning  much  more  important 
undertakings.  Tlie  publication  of  two  great  collec- 
tions of  memoirs  —  one  on  the  Ancient  History  of 
France,  the  other  on  the  Revolution  in  England  — 
in  which  at  that  time  M.  Guizot  was  beginning  to 
take  a  lively  interest,  seemed  likely  to  answer  her 
purpose.  It  was  difficult  to  start  fairly  either  of  these 
works.  In  her  letters  to  her  husband  she  insists  on 
the  necessity  for  perseverance. 

*  Baudoin  will  not  undertake  it ;  this  vexes  me  less 
perhaps  for  the  present  than  for  the  future  —  for  the 
sake  of  our  whole  position.  I  never  expected  that 
the  work  that  I  am  now  about,  and  which  will  take 
up  all  my  time,  would  be  sufficient  for  us  this  winter; 
I  cannot  help  thinking  that  it  will  be  difficult  to  get 
over  that  time  even  if  it  should  enter  into  your  ar- 


*  From  the  same  translation  of  M.  Guizot's  Memoirs. 


76  MONSIEITK   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

rangements  to  publish  a  volume  in  the  autumn ;  the 
terms  of  payment  which  would  suit  me,  because, 
with  my  provident  disposition,  I  always  prefer  to 
sacrifice  the  present,  will  leave  us  large  gaps  to  fill 
up  during  the  next  year ;  and  then,  too,  it  may  not 
suit  you  to  publish.  We  must  see  then  what  we  can 
do.  As  you  know  I  wanted  to  find  something  which 
would  give  us  a  settled  employment,  and  prove  the 
foundation  of  a  different  sort  of  life  than  ours  is  now  ; 
otherwise  this  will  go  on  for  a  long  time,  a  very  long 
time.  I  am  convinced  of  this  more  and  more  every 
day,  and  not  only  for  myself  (who  am  used  to  it), 
but  for  you,  this  uncertain  mode  of  existence  is 
disagreeable  to  me.  It  was  to  get  over  this  difficulty 
that  Ave  thought  of  undertaking  those  two  great 
works ;  they  have  both  fallen  through,  and  we  soon 
shall  have  lost  a  year  from  the  time  when  we  had 
hoped  to  lay  the  first  stone  of  the  little  fortune  which 
we  must  build  in  one  way  or  another.  Think  of  all 
this,  dear,  while  you  are  connecting  j^our  proofs  — 
try  to  hit  upon  some  idea  —  you  say  that  you  have 
two  to  my  one,  so  much  the  better. 

*  Do  not  be  afraid  of  setting  me  to  work,  dearest ; 
I  am  quite  well  again,  and  although  I  am  afraid  that 
the  freshness  of  my  imagination  has  somewhat  worn 
off  for  the  sort  of  work  I  now  have  in  hand,  neverthe- 
less, I  shall  be  able  to  manage  it,  and  by  raising  a 
little  my  tone,  or  at  least  my  subject,  I  may  succeed 
pretty  well  in  future  attempts.  I  would  i-ather,  how- 
ever, not  have  always  to  trust  to  my  imagination, 
which  may  not  always  be  equally  available,  it  has 


LITERARY    OCCUPATIONS.  7  7 

not  variety  enough  to  prevent  my  being  afraid  of  tir- 
ing the  pubhc,  and  does  not  exercise  itself  over  a  field 
wide  enough  to  yield  much  profit.  What  I  should 
much  prefer  would  be  some  work  in  which  I  should 
undertake  the  drudgery,  and  to  which  you  would 
give  colour  and  breadth.  But  where  shall  we  find 
one  to  suit  you  ?  Our  position  is  an  obstacle  ;  there 
are  some  things  which  you  cannot  do  ;  we  seem  to 
be  too  grand  folks  for  jjublishers  to  come  to  us.  It 
is  a  difficult  jiosition,  especially  for  people  who 
have  to  make  their  own  foilune.  This  is  what  I  am 
constantly  thinking  about.  As  to  details,  I  have  no 
doubt  but  that  this  year  once  over  we  shall  always 
be  able  to  get  on.  I  have  just  read  your  letter  again, 
and  I  cannot  help  smiling,  although  I  am  little  in  the 
mood  for  mirth.  You  say  that  you  have  bound  me 
to  a  hazardous,  uncertain  fate ;  in  truth,  if  it  were 
not  for  you,  mine  would  be  settled  soon  enough.' 

'  Your  letters  breathe  life,'  Madame  Guizot  some- 
times said  to  her  husband.  '  You  reconcile  me  to 
the  whole  world,  by  reminding  me  of  our  union,  our 
happiness.' 

Ill  saying  this  she  spoke  truly  ;  and  she  needed 
this  cordial.  Although  she  displayed  so  much  forti- 
tude In  real  sorrow,  she  was  easil}'  disquieted  by 
imaginary  troubles  which  her  husband  was  able  to 
banish  with  a  word.  The  important  works,  for 
which  she  was  so  earnestly  desii'ous,  were  again 
brought  forward ;  the  task  laid  before  the  two 
workers  reached  to  an  infinite  perspective.  M. 
Guizot  was  returning  joyfully  to  the  country. 


78  MONSIEUR    GUIZOT    IK    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

'Without  counting  my  home  happiness,'  he  wrote, 
'  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  quit  Paris  for  Bois-Milet ; 
for  a  few  days  I  enjoyed  looking  at  its  outside  and 
talking  to  my  friends  ;  but  I  begin  to  have  an  un- 
conquerable aversion  for  unprofitable  words  ;  there 
is  no  worse  gossip  than  that  which  relates  to  politics. 
One  listens  to  what  one  knew  beforehand ;  one's 
answers  are  equally  stale  to  the  people  one  is  talking 
to ;  it  is  both  dull  and  worrying.  I  greatly  prefer 
the  conversation  of  the  trees,  the  wind,  the  sun,  and 
the  clouds.  Man  is  infinitely  superior  to  nature ; 
but  nature,  although  monotonous,  is  inexhaustible. 
We  know  that  she  is  and  will  be  always  the  same ; 
in  her  presence  we  do  not  feel  the  desire  for  progress 
which  makes  us  tire  of  society  or  of  conversation 
which  does  not  satisfy  the  mind.  Who  ever  wanted 
the  trees  to  turn  red  or  blue,  or  thought  that  the  sun 
of  to-day  was  wrong  to  be  so  like  the  sun  of  yester- 
day? Progress  and  novelty  are  not  expected  in 
nature,  and  this  is  why  she  restores  us  after  the 
tedium,  and  rests  us  after  the  excitement,  of  society. 
It  is  her  privilege  to  be  always  the  same,  yet  never 
insipid ;  if  man  is  stationary  he  becomes  dull,  and 
he  is  not  strong  enough  to  be  always  moving  on- 
wards. I  expect,  however,  to  find  sQme  progress  at 
Bois-Milet  —  the  walls,  the  bricks  —  all  will  have 
got  on  in  my  absence :  only  I  hope  you  have  told 
the  raspben-ies  not  to  take  themselves  off".' 

My  father  throughout  his  life,  preferred  human 
to  material  nature.  '  I  would  not  go  twenty  miles  to 
see  a  landscape,'  he  used  to  say  ;  '  I  would  travel  a 


LITERARY    OCCUPATIONS.  79 

thousand  to  see  a  person.'  'What  I  like  in  M. 
Guizot,'  said  the  Duchesse  de  BrogHe,  '  is  that  he  is 
fond  of  human  nature  ! '  But  as  he  grew  older,  the 
feeling  of  repose,  induced  by  the  aspect  of  nature  in 
her  changeless  variety,  went  on  developing  in  his 
mind,  as  well  as  his  dislike  of  idle  conversation. 
'  Nothing  tii-es  me  so  much  as  to  have  to  support  a 
good  cause  by  bad  reasons,'  he  often  said,  '  except, 
perhaps,  to  talk  or  listen  to  talking  for  talking 
sake.' 


CHAPTER  VII. 

1823-27. 

DOMESTIC    HAPPINESS DEATH    OF   MADAME    PAULINE 

GUIZOT. 

The  domestic  happiness  and  noble  life  of  M.  and 
Madame  Guizot  afforded  a  rare  and  toiichine:  sio-lit  at 
this  period.  They  worked  on,  conscientiously  and 
assiduously,  undisturbed  by  the  great  intellectual 
animation  of  which  their  little  drawing-room  was  a 
lively  centre.  Their  family  circle  was  diminished  in 
one  direction,  and  increased  in  another.  M.  Bonicel, 
Monsieur  Guizot's  grandfather,  died  at  a  great  age ; 
his  wife  had  preceded  him  to  the  grave ;  their 
daughter,  thus  set  free  from  the  pious  duty  which  she 
had  fulfilled  to  the  end,  came  to  live  in  Paris  in  the 
house  of  her  elder  son,  her  second  son  was  at  that 
time  a  sous-prefet.  She  thought  that  she  had  finished 
her  task,  and  was  once  more  to  enjoy  the  repose 
which  she  had  lost  sight  of  during  a  time  of  long 
and  cruel  suffering.  God  decided  otherwise,  and  it 
was  to  her  dying  day  that  this  strong  soul  and  inex- 
haustible heart  had  to  help  those  who  were  dear  to 
her  in  bearing  the  burdens  laid  upon  them. 


\\\\)\\\i:   Gi;izoi' 


DOMESTIC   HAPPINESS.  81 

A  great  sorrow  fell  upon  M.  and  Madame  Guizot. 
Madame  de  Vaines  died  in  November,  1823,  confid- 
ing- to  her  daughter  Elisa,  then  not  twenty  years  old, 
the  care  of  her  younger  sister,  a  delicate  and  restless 
child,  and  that  of  a  little  brother  aged  six.  M.  de 
Vaines  had  lost  his  appointment,  and  came  to  live 
in  Paris ;  for  the  future,  Mademoiselle  Dillon  shared 
the  daily  interests,  as  well  as  the  daily  occupations, 
of  her  uncle  and  aunt.  Her  mind  developed  every 
day  by  contact  with  theirs ;  she  already  began  to 
write  for  the  pleasure  of  writing  and  of  preserving 
the  thoughts  which  filled  her  imagination.  Endowed 
with  a  rare  memory,  she  readily  devoured  all  sorts 
of  important  books,  '  your  most  dangerous  rivals 
with  me,'  as  she  wrote  to  her  sister ;  but  she  imme- 
diately added,  with  the  eager  tenderness  which 
always  made  affection  her  first  object,  '  your  rivals, 
my  Pauline  ?  For  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  I 
would  give  up  every  book  that  has  ever  been  printed. 
You  are  a  thousand  times  more  to  me  than  all  the 
furniture  of  my  mind ;  you  fill  my  soul,  you  are  the 
cherished  object  of  all  my  thoughts.  It  is  not  for 
the  sake  of  what  I  know  that  you  love  me,  or  that 
I  am  loved  by  my  family ;  knowledge  belongs  to 
time,  and  will  cease  with  man's  ignorance ;  but  love 
will  always  remain  ;  like  God,  it  is  immortal.  My 
dear,  I  shall  always  be  your  Elisa,  even  when  the 
centuries  shall  have  passed  away.  "  Faith  and  hope 
may  perish,"  as  St.  Paul  says,  "  but  love  will  abide 
for  ever."  Everything  belonging  to  us,  then,  will 
perish,  except  the  Divine  Spirit  of  love,  which  God 


82  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

has  breathed  into  us  to  make  us  continually  aspire 
to  the  infinite.  Why  should  we  love  each  other  if 
it  were  only  for  a  time?  "  Everything  that  is  fugi- 
tive is  so  short," '  says  St  Augustine. 

'  Happiness  itself  would  be  suffering  to  me,'  M. 
Guizot  wrote  some  years  earlier,  '  if  I  saw  in  it  only 
a  pastime,  if  I  could  believe  in  the  sudden  disap- 
pearance, the  successive  extinction  of  all  these  inef- 
fable emotions  and  celestial  joys ;  even  if  I  knew 
that  they  were  to  be  renewed  every  day,  and  to  the 
last  day  of  my  life.  The  past  is  as  precious  as  the 
present ;  it  is  a  necessity  for  my  mind  that  all  I  have 
felt  should  remain  for  ever,  and  that  of  our  united 
lives  nothing  should  ever  be  lost.' 

Receiving  as  she  did  every  morning,  similar  let- 
ters, Madame  Guizot  had  a  right  to  say  :  '  Dearest, 
when  I  read  over  and  over  again  your  charming 
letters,  these  expressions  of  simple,  I  might  even 
say,  of  youthful  tenderness,  and  I  think  of  the  idea 
that  a  great  many  people  have  of  you  —  as  of  a 
proud,  ambitious  man,  with  a  cold  heart  and  calcu- 
lating head  —  the  contrast  strikes  as  so  strange,  that 
I  cannot  be  angry  with  these  foolish  judgments.  I 
laugh  at  the  effect  which  your  letters,  —  the  whole 
series  of  them,  alike  and  yet  so  various  —  would 
produce  on  certain  people  I  could  mention.  Man's 
opinion  is  a  very  fine,  thing,  and  one  cares  about  it, 
thank  God !  not  more  than  in  reason ;  nevertheless, 
one  sets  a  certain  value  upon  it,  greater  than  it 
deserves ;  and  this  is  good,  for  if  one  estimated  it  at 
its  real  importance,  social  relations  would  be  in 
some  danger  of  annihilation.' 


DOMESTIC    HAPPINESS.  83 

M.  Guizot  stimulated  by  his  influence  an  ever- 
increasing  animation  in  historical  studies  and  re- 
search ;  he  set  liimself  at  the  head  of  this  movement, 
and  laboured  incessantly.  In  1833  he  began  to 
publish  his  collection  of  Memoirs  relating  to  the 
ancient  history  of  France ;  at  the  same  time,  Madame 
Guizot's  translation  of  Gregory  of  Tours  struck  all 
readers  as  a  masterpiece  of  precision  and  unaffected 
simplicity.  At  the  same  time,  she  edited  the  collec- 
tion of  Memoirs  relating  to  the  History  of  the  English 
Revolution,  and  M.  Guizot  was  preparing  those 
Essays  on  the  History  of  France  in  the  Fifth  Century, 
which,  for  the  first  time,  threw  a  strong  light  upon 
tlie  dark  origin  of  our  civilisation.  The  materials 
on  which  he  founded  his  History  of  the  English  Rev- 
olution were  from  this  period  the  object  of  his  most 
conscientious  study.  He  classified,  day  by  day,  in 
a  tabular  form,  events  even  of  the  smallest  import- 
ance. 

On  her  side  Madame  Guizot  published  her  New 
Tales,  which  have  remained  a  classic  for  the  children 
of  all  countries,  thanks  to  the  moral  elevation  and 
power  of  the  lessons  they  contain,  hidden  under  the 
simplest  form,  and  adorned  Avith  the  most  charming 
stories.  She  began  to  write  her  Family  Letters  on 
Education,  '  the  only  work  she  undertook  freely,  of 
her  own  accord,  and  with  complete  satisfaction. 
Tlie  care  of  her  son  taught  her  a  great  deal  about 
education,  no  one  could  hold  more  liberal  views, 
she  wrote  nothing  on  the  subject  which  she  did  not 
apply,  her  talent  for  discovering  and  following  out 


84  MONSIEUR    GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

in  real  life  the  consequences  of  a  princii^le  was  much 
developed  by  studying  the  character  of  her  boy.'  * 

She,  however,  knew  nothing  of  ordinary,  practical 
education,  for  she  had  had  to  do  with  an  only  child, 
a  delicate  and  rare  nature,  precociously  developed 
by  the  atmosphere  in  wliich  he  lived.  Her  religious 
faith,  although  it  grew  stronger  every  day,  was 
wanting  in  definiteness,  in  that  precision  wliich  is 
more  necessary  perhaps  in  our  relation  to  children 
than  in  any  other.  The  mark  of  the  philosophy  of 
the  eighteenth  century  was  often  evident  in  her 
educational  theories,  even  when  slie  thought  they 
were  most  completely  free  from  it ;  there  Avere,  in 
consequence,  some  omissions,  which  one  cannot  help 
regi-etting,  in  her  book  ;  but  with  this  exception,  no 
work  on  this  inexhaustible  subject  has  ever  attained 
the  same  degree  of  moral  elevation,  delicate  percep- 
tion, and  unprejudiced  judgment. 

She  sometimes  said  that  she  had  '  had  no  idea 
beforehand  of  a  mother's  love,'  but  Avhen  she  expe- 
rienced it  she  felt  it  rapturously  ;  an  infinite  tender- 
ness was  always  mingled  with  the  respect  she  felt 
for  those  immortal  souls  which  are  confided  to  our 
care,  and  whose  will  is  so  strong  and  untameable 
even  on  the  threshold  of  life. 

No  one  ever  appreciated  more  than  she  did  the 
treasures  which  lie  hidden  in  a  child's  heart  and 
mind ;  she  was  never  tired  of  observing,  consider- 
ing, and  expressing  the  principles  derived  from  her 


From  M.  Gui2ot's  notes. 


DEATH    OF   MADAME   PAULINE    GUIZOT.  85 

observations ;  from  time  to  time  she  paused  in  her 
writing,  a  prey  to  tender  emotions. 

'  My  heart  melts  with  tenderness  when  I  look  at 
my  children,'  are  the  woixls  she  puts  into  the  mouth 
of  Madame  d'Attill}',  and  they  are  the  exact  expres- 
sion of  her  own  feelings.  '  God  instructs  us  in  His 
laws,  and  the  mother  teaches  them  to  her  child,'  she 
says ;  and  she  sums  up  admirably  the  whole  aim  of 
the  great  work  of  education  by  saying :  '  It  consists 
in  enabling  children  to  control  themselves  by  means 
of  their  own  free  will.  To  succeed,  education  must 
make  use  of  the  desire  for  liberty,  which  is  the  true 
foundation  for  obedience.' 

Madame  Guizot's  book  was  published  in  1826,  she 
devoted  the  last  remnant  of  her  strength  to  it : 
work,  indeed,  was  the  law  of  her  whole  life.  Her 
health,  which  had  long  been  delicate,  was  gradually 
foiling,  she  was  seriously  ill,  although  no  one  knew 
it.  Great  restlessness  was  presently  a  symptom  of 
the  malady  detected  by  the  doctors;  she  suffei-ed 
greatly,  she  felt  her  strength  unequal  to  bear  her 
suffering,  and  she  passionately  longed  for  anything 
which  might  enable  her  to  live.  She  wanted  to 
leave  Paris,  to  establish  herself  in  the  country,  to 
breathe  the  air  of  the  fields.  Distance  from  medical 
advice  and  the  nature  of  her  illness  made  any  change 
of  place  difficult ;  she  deplored  it  passionately,  with 
the  impressionable  vivacity  which  her  reason  had 
never  succeeded  In  conquering,  and  which  her  phy- 
sical weakness  rendered  both  more  intense  and  more 
touching.     I  find  the  expression  of  her  feelings  at 


86  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

this  time  in  M.  Guizot's  notes  on  this  period  of  their 
married  life.     She  says :  — 

'  Remember,  dearest,  that  I  have  seen  nothing, 
known  nothing,  exhausted  nothing;  my  life  has  been 
almost  as  stationary  as  it  has  been  laborious.  Before 
our  marriage  I  had  never  been  beyond  the  suburbs 
of  Paris ;  the  Revolution,  which  excited  me  so  power- 
fully, drove  me  no  farther  than  Passy :  I  have  felt 
much,  thought  and  worked  much,  but  every  change 
has  been  from  within ;  I  have  drawn  all  my  experi- 
ence from  myself  I  lived  on  in  the  same  spot 
without  any  communication  from  the  outside  world, 
almost  without  being  aware  that  there  was  such  a 
world.  Since  our  marriage  I  have  looked  a  little 
more  often  out  of  the  window,  and  the  happier  I 
have  grown,  the  more  eager  I  have  been  to  enjoy 
every  pleasure  that  was  offered  to  me.  I  have  be- 
come very  old,  very  weary,  very  ill ;  and  yet,  dear, 
the  sliglitest  excitement  out  of  doors,  the  very  idea 
of  a  beautiful  country,  of  some  great  event,  of  a  fine 
sight,  of  some  new  and  interesting  scene,  restores 
my  youth  and  my  energy ;  it  seems  as  if  I  had 
exhausted  only  half  my  life  —  that  which  goes  on 
within  —  and  that  I  might  possibly  find  the  other 
half,  which  might  carry  me  on  again,  outside  these 
walls  ;  from  afar,  dearest,  it  is  from  afar  that  my 
best  hopes  come.  I  say  to  myself  that,  perhaps, 
my  own  end  is  not  near,  since  nothing  has  ended 
for  me ;  I  regard  this  as  a  good  symptom,  I  am  glad 
for  both  our  sakes  to  feel  the  world  so  full,  and  my- 
self so  ready  to  enjoy  and  to  take  interest  in  so  many 


DEATH    OF   MADAME    PAULINE    GUIZOT.  87 

things.    Be  sure  that  if  only  I  can  regain  my  healtli 
a  little,  you  will  find  me  as  I  used  to  be  ;  I  shall — 
without  the  slightest  effort  and  witliout  desiring  any 
praise —  want  nothing  when  with  you,  ask  nothing, 
desire  nothing,  see  nothing  but  you.     But   now  I 
require  some  amusement  and  employment  to  rest 
the  activity  of  my  ideas,  to  divert  my  mind  from 
work,  and,  at  the  same  time,  prevent  it  from  dwell- 
ing on  itself     I  shall  find  all  this,  I  hope,  in  travel- 
ling, in  movement,  and  in  novelty ;  I  have  faith  in 
the  instinct  which  makes  me  desire  this  so  intensely.' 
Every  tender  objection,  all  the   doctors'  hesita- 
tions, were  obliged  to  yield  to  her  passionate  wishes. 
M.  Guizot  always  retained  a  cruel  impression  of  the 
long  resistance  he  had  thought  it  right  to  ojjpose  to 
her  desire.      M.  Royer-Collard  was  the  only  one 
among  his  friends  who  encouraged  him  to  go  away. 
'  Is  there  anything  to  be  done  here  to  relieve  her ! ' 
he  said.     '  If  there  is  nothing  let  her  decide  for  her- 
self—  consult  no  one  but  her  and  yourself 

No  one  could  cure,  or  even  mitigate,  the  malady 
which  was  killing  her.  The  great  surgeon  M.  Boyer, 
advised  Plombieres. 

'  I  can  see  now  how  her  countenance,  her  eyes 
lighted  up,  as  soon  as  I  mentioned  this  word,  with 
unexpected,  anxious  joy.  She  could  not  believe  that 
such  a  hope  was  permitted  to  her:  that  a  thousand 
objections,  a  thousand  obstacles,  would  not  rise  up 
at  once  to  rob  her  of  it.' 

After  inevitable  delaj^s,  during  which  herweakness 
and  sufferings  increased,  M.  Guizot  at  last  took  his 


88  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

wife  to  Plombieres,  accompanied  by  his  mother,  his 
son,  and  Mademoiselle  Dillon.  Of  all  the  trials  in 
his  long  life,  few  left  such  melancholy  traces  in  his 
memory  as  this  journey  —  a  long  and  troublesome 
one  at  that  time — with  no  other  result  than  a  more 
and  more  rapid  progress  in  the  disease. 

She  left  Paris  on  the  sixteenth  of  June,  1827,  full 
of  joy  and  hope.  As  soon  as  she  passed  the  barrier 
she  was  charmed.  '  You  may  be  sure  that  this  is  no 
illusion,'  she  said.  '  The  air  is  not  the  same  as  in 
the  streets ;  the  sun  does  more  good  in  the  fields 
than  in  houses.  As  soon  as  I  left  Paris  a  very  posi- 
tive, distinct  sensation  told  me  that  my  condition 
was  changed.' 

Mademoiselle  Dillon  wrote  to  her  sister : 

'  She  came  back  on  the  twenty-seventh  of  July, 
1827,  exhausted,  extinguished,  discouraged;  she  still 
thought  of  others,  but  at  times  she  was  conquered 
by  sufferings  beyond  the  power  of  human  nature  to 
endure.  On  her  arrival  in  Paris,  Madame  de  Razo- 
mousky,  one  of  her  dearest  friends,  came  to  see  her. 
'  My  dear,'  she  said,  '  here  am  I  in  my  bed ;  I  shall 
leave  it  one  way  or  another:  I  have  given  myself 
up.' 

Two  days  later,  on  the  first  of  August,  1827,  she 
expired,  while  her  husband,  who  was  sitting  by  her 
side,  was  reading  to  her  a  sermon  of  Bossuet's  on 
the  immortality  of  the  soul. 

'  Yours  are  the  only  words  that  have  touched  me, 
my  dear  friend,'  M.  Guizot  wrote  on  the  eighth  of 
August,  to  M.  de  Barante,  with  whom  he  had  been 


DEATH    OF   MADAME   PAULINE    GUIZOT.  89 

intimate  for  years ;  '  her  happiness  was  due  to  me 
only  ;  it  was  entire,  unalloyed,  and  it  endured  to  the 
last.  If  this  thought  could  be  always  with  nie  there 
would  be  some  sweetness  mixed  with  my  bitter 
grief  But  I  can  only  feel  it  now  and  then  ;  I  seize 
it,  and  then  I  fall  back  on  myself  into  the  awful  void 
—  under  this  frightful  weight.  I  know  that  I  am 
wrong.  Next  to  tlie  happiness  of  having  her  for 
my  wife,  what  I  should  have  wished  for  most  in  the 
whole  world  —  even  at  the  price  of  this  sorrow  — 
would  have  been  to  have  possessed  her.  For  fifteen 
years  the  former  happiness  was  mine ;  the  latter  is 
mine  still :  I  have  no  right  to  complain.  We  were 
not  separated  until  the  very  last ;  she  still  lived,  even 
while  passing  through  the  gates  of  death ;  and  I  was 
allowed  to  live  with  her  as  long  as  is  ever  permitted 
to  man.  She  died  while  listening  to  Bossuet's  ser- 
mon on  the  immortality  of  the  soul.  I  know  in 
which  place,  in  what  sentence  she  ceased  to  hear  my 
voice ;  two  minutes  before,  she  had  become  con- 
fused, she  made  an  effort  to  recover  her  senses,  she 
evidently  wanted  to  follow  to  the  end  Bossuet's 
sound  and  noble  argument.  Her  effort  succeeded, 
she  was  herself  again,  she  heard  the  end  of  the  par- 
agraph, and  then  she  literally  passed  away  from  us, 
borne  on  the  wings  of  this  excellent  proof  of  the 
soul's  immortality. 

'  A  quarter  of  an  hour  later,  when  she  could  no 
longer  see  or  hear  me,  she  pressed  my  hand  from 
time  to  time ;  ten  minutes  after  she  ceased  to  do  so 
she  had  completely  ceased  to  breathe,  without  any 


90  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

alteration  to  show  that  she  had  passed  through  the 
slightest  struggle  —  she  was  no  more,  and  tliat  was 
all. 

*  I  do  not  ask  you  to  forgive  these  details.  I 
think  of  nothing  else,  I  must  be  silent  or  speak  of 
lier ;  and  I  am  sure  that  you  will  like  to  follow  the 
last  steps  in  this  world  of  this  noble  and  tender 
being ;  one  of  the  noblest,  as  Royer  writes  to  me, 
who  have  ever  honoured  human  existence.  Good- 
bye. Write  to  me ;  I  am  sure  that  you  will  speak 
of  her  in  the  way  I  wish.  I  am  going  to  Broglie  in 
eight  or  ten  days.  They  both  came  here  in  the  hope 
of  seeing  her  once  more ;  they  were  too  late  by  fif- 
teen hours.  They  wanted  to  take  me  away  with 
them,  but  I  required  this  fortnight  at  home.  Write 
to  me  at  Broglie.' 

On  the  thirty-first  he  writes :  '  Thank  you  for 
writing  to  me,  my  dear  friend  !  your  letters  are 
pleasant  to  me  although  they  cannot  diminish  my 
grief  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  it  —  that  is  all  I 
can  say.  I  am  beginning  to  work  again,  but  with 
great  difficulty  :  if  I  might  do  nothing  but  Avalk 
about  alone,  read  my  letters  over  again  —  in  one 
word,  transport  my  life  into  the  past  —  it  would  be 
endurable  to  me.  But  we  must  live  in  the  present, 
we  must  banish  even  the  remembrance  which  would 
naturally  absorb  us.  This  is  the  battle  I  have  to 
wage.  I  have  my  boy  with  me ;  he  is  a  satisfactory 
child  in  every  respect  —  gentle,  afi'ectionate,  intelli- 
gent, and  lively.  He  was  a  great  pleasure  to  her 
during   the  last  two  years.      He  was   present  all 


DEATH    OF    MADAME   PAULINE    GUIZOT.  91 

through  her  last  moments,  and  we  often  talk  of  that 
time.  I  am  not  afraid  of  his  dwelling  on  it ;  he  has 
a  singular  faculty  for  turning  his  grief  into  a  tender 
feeling  which  does  not  disturb  his  imagination.  Her 
death  was  so  calm,  so  entirely  free  from  any  moral 
or  physical  deterioration,  that  the  remembrance  of  it 
does  not  distress  the  child.  He  has  had  no  violent 
fits  of  grief:  she  is  always  present  to  liim  ;  she  is  an 
habitual  thought  with  liim ;  he  is  as  fond  of  her  as 
he  was  when  she  was  here ;  he  has  the  highest  idea 
of  her  value  and  of  the  loss  she  is  to  me. 

'  This  is  his  condition.  You  wished  me  to  describe 
it,  and  it  is  what  I  should  have  desired.  I  have 
seen  more  passionate  and  energetic  children  than  he 
is,  but  I  have  never  known  one  more  upright,  more 
noble,  or  more  natural.  He  will  return  to  Paris, 
towards  the  middle  of  September,  with  my  mother 
and  my  nieces.  I  shall  go  thither  myself  about  the 
middle  of  October  to  put  him  to  college  as  a  day 
pupil,  and  to  spend  a  fortnight  with  liim.  I  shall 
then  come  back  and  pass  the  rest  of  the  year  here. 

'  I  have  an  absolute  necessity  for  quiet  work  and 
perfect  solitude  to  enable  me  to  regain  possession  of 
my  faculties.  My  mind  is  like  a  broken  limb,  the 
most  perfect  rest  is  requisite  for  it ;  only  on  this 
condition  can  life  begin  once  more  to  circulate  in  it.' 


CHAPTER  VIIL 

1827-28. 

HIS   LECTURES  —  HIS   SECOND   MARRIAGE. 

M.  GuizoT  resumed  his  work  with  great  diHgence. 
The  two  first  volumes  of  the  History  of  the  English 
Bevolution  appeared  in  1827,  and  in  the  beginning  of 
1828  he  undertook  the  direction  of  the  Revue  Fran- 
gaise,  an  important  pubhcation,  in  wliich  the  most 
abstract  questions  of  philosophy  and  political  econ- 
omy were  discussed,  without  excluding  the  exciting 
questions  of  the  day.  At  the  head  of  the  first 
number,  which  appeared  in  January,  1828,  was  an 
article  by  M.  Guizot  treating  of  the  elections  which 
had  taken  ^^lace  in  November  of  the  previous  year, 
of  M.  deVillele's  policy,  and  finishing  by  announcing, 
in  the  last  page,  the  formation  of  a  cabinet  by  M.  de 
Martignac: 

'  If  he  understands  and  accepts  the  present  state 
of  France,  he  will  hasten  to  put  himself  in  harmony 
with  the  majority  of  which  France  has  just  sent  the 
elements  to  the  chamber ;  he  will  himself  endeavour 
to  unite,  extend,  and  strengthen  it.  If  he  will  not, 
or  dare  not,  or  cannot  do   this,   there   is   nothing 


EIS   LECTURES.  93 

more  to  be  said  ;  his  accession  to  power  will  then  be 
only  another  reason  for  directing  all  our  thoughts, 
all  our  efforts,  towards  the  formation  of  a  strong 
national  party.  The  country  has  raised  its  standard, 
we  must  hold  it  on  high,  and  with  a  firm  hand,  in 
order  that  all  may  rally  round  it,  and  then  we  must 
plant  it  at  the  foot  of  the  throne.  This  i's  all  we 
have  to  care  for.' 

The  ]\Iinistry  was  making  an  effort  to  return  to 
really  Liberal  courses.  M.  Royer-CoUard  was  ap- 
pointed President  of  the  Chamber,  and  the  title  of 
Conseiller  d'Etat  was  restored  to  M.  Guizot,  who  at 
the  same  time  was  permitted  to  resume  his  lectures, 
as  well  as  M.  Villemain  and  M.  Cousin. 

It  was  on  tlie  nintli  of  April  that  the  professor,  who 
had  not  occujiied  his  chair  for  seven  years,  saw  be- 
fore him  an  audience  even  more  numerous,  more 
ardent,  and  more  sympathetic,  than  the  one  which 
had  assembled  in  former  days  at  the  College  du 
Plessis*  He  was  much  touched  by  the  applause 
which  saluted  his  entrance. 

'  Forgive  me,  gentlemen,'  he  said,  '  if  your  very 
kind  reception  has  somewhat  agitated  me.  Because 
1  have  returned,  it  seems  as  if  everything  else  must 
come  back,  that  nothing  has  been  changed.  There 
lias  been  a  change,  however,  and  a  thorough  change. 
Seven  yeai-s  ago,  we  entered  this  room  anxiously, 
our  minds  full  of  sadness  and  heaviness,  we  felt  that 
we  were  being  drawn  towards  a  calamity  which  we 


*  The  first  theatre  in  which  M.  Guizot  lectured. 


94  MONSIEUR    GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

were  vainly  endeavouring,  by  means  of  an  earnest, 
quiet,  and  reserved  attitude,  to  avoid.  To-day  we  all 
meet,  you  aswell  as  myself,  with  confidence  and  hope, 
our  minds  at  peace,  and  our  thoughts  free  !  .  .  . 
There  is  but  one  way,  gentlemen,  to  show  our  grati- 
tude properly,  it  is  to  exhibit,  in  our  meetings  and 
our  writings,  the  same  calm  reserve  that  characterised 
us  when  we  feared  every  day  that  they  might  be  dis- 
solved or  suspended.  Good  fortune  is  hazardous, 
delicate,  fragile ;  hope  requires  as  much  forbearance 
as  fear,  convalescence  exacts  almost  as  much  care 
and  prudence  as  the  beginning  of  an  illness.  .  .  . 
You  will  exercise  this  forbearance,  gentlemen,  I  am 
sure.  The  same  sympathy,  the  same  rapid  and  inti- 
mate correspondence  of  opinion,  feeling,  and  thought, 
which  united  us  in  those  days  of  trial,  and  wliich,  at 
any  rate,  spared  us  many  mistakes,  will  equally 
unite  us  in  these  fortunate  days,  and  will  put  us  in 
the  way  of  reaping  their  fruits.  I  depend  upon  this, 
gentlemen,  on  your  side,  and  I  ask  for  nothing 
more.' 

Those  who  had  the  good  fortune  to  attend  M. 
Guizot's  lectures  during  the  following  two  years, 
often  related  how  faitlifidly  the  audience  kept  the 
promise  made  by  the  Professor  in  their  name  as  well 
as  in  his  own.  However  great  the  pushing  and 
crowding  at  the  door,  and  the  difficulty  of  finding 
room  on  the  narrow  benches,  silence  and  respect 
wei'e  always  maintained  within.  The  lectures  on 
'  Civilization  in  France  and  in  Europe '  were  never 
interrupted  by  any  disturbance,  however  great  the 


\ 


HIS    SECOND   MARRIAGE.  95 

political  excitement  and  tumult  out-of-doors.  This 
was  always  a  gratifying  recollection  to  M.  Guizot. 

At  the  same  time  happiness  was  returning  to  his 
life.  During  her  illness,  and  with  the  secret  con- 
iction  of  approaching  death,  Madame  Guizot  said 
to  Madame  de  St.  Aulaire,  with  whom  she  Avas  very 
intimate,  '  If  I  die,  I  wish  him  to  be  unhappy  as  little 
and  for  as  short  a  time  as  possible,'  —  thus  showing 
an  unselfishness  which  is  very  rare  in  so  passionate 
a  nature,  and  wliich  contributed  perhaps  to  the  ful- 
filment of  her  noble  wish. 

Madame  Guizot  had  taken  a  great  part  in  the 
education  of  her  niece.  Mademoiselle  ^lisa  Dillon ; 
she  liked  to  be  nursed  by  her  during  the  melancholy 
journey  to  Plombieres,  and  frequently  and  witli 
pleasure  drew  attention  to  the  resemblance  between 
their  characters. 

M.  Guizot  wrote  in  his  notes :  '  l^lisa  was  a  young 
Pauline,  devoted  and  tender  as  Pauline  was  to  her 
dying  day.' 

After  her  aunt's  death  Mademoiselle  Dillon  spent 
a  month  at  Broglie,  and  when  she  had  returned  to 
Paris  M.  Guizot  wrote  to  her  from  Broglie  of  the 
lost  one  whom  they  both  had  loved  so  well  — 

'I  do  not  thank  you  for  your  attentions  to  my 
mother,  my  dear  i^lisa,  but  I  wish  you  to  know  how 
much  I  am  touched  by  them  ;  you  understand  how 
to  please  her  —  a  little  time  devoted  to  her,  some 
attention  to  her  friends,  this  is  the  best  way,  and  I 
am  sure  that  you  have  succeeded  in  it.  That  you 
should  do  so  is  essential  to  the  calm  of  our  home, 


96  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

and  I  do  not  know  what  would  become  of  me  with- 
out repose.  It  is  repose  that  I  want  above  all  things 
at  present,  because  it  is  only  in  repose  that  I  am  able 
to  fill  my  mind  exclusively  with  her  whom  I  find 
there,  and  there  only.  What  I  should  chiefly  dislike 
in  discord  would  be  the  distraction  of  my  thoughts. 
There  are  now  only  two  conditions  endurable  for 
me — either  great  and  important  political  action,  or 
to  detach  myself  entirely  from  externals  and  to  live 
within  myself ;  the  former  may  some  day  be  again 
possible  for  me,  and  I  hope  that  it  will ;  I  can  obtain 
the  latter  already,  and  I  have  obtained  it ;  do  not  be 
uneasy  about  my  health  —  all  that  is  of  no  conse- 
quence—  I  am  much  better  than  I  have  any  right  to 
be.  I  liave  begun  going  out  again,  I  have  taken 
some  long,  solitary  rambles.  I  seek  out  the  walks 
which  she  liked,  particularly  those  we  took  together; 
I  want  to  retrace  them  all,  even  the  tiniest  paths, 
and  to  go  over  again  every  step.  It  is  a  great 
blessing  that  Providence  allows  us  to  retain  such 
lively  and  lasting  impressions  :  God  knows  that  Avhen 
I  walked  in  these  woods  with  her  it  never  once 
entered  my  mind  that  I  should  return  to  them  alone, 
I  never  made  the  slightest  eff'ort  to  imprint  on  my 
memory  the  scenes  we  passed  through.  Well,  I  re- 
member them  so  well  that  when  I  tiy  to  find  a  path, 
I  am  vexed,  I  am  ill  at  ease,  until  I  discover  the 
right  one.  I  cannot  tell  in  what  respect  the  path  I 
took  with  her  differed  from  the  one  I  am  in,  but  I 
am  sure  it  is  not  the  right  one;  and  when  at  last 
I  find  the  right  one,  all  at  once  my  recollections 


HIS    SECOND   MARRIAGE.  97 

rush  back  and  become  clearer  and  clearer — I  re- 
member everything  —  the  position  of  the  trees,  the 
slope  of  the  ground,  the  points  of  view,  the  stones 
—  every  object  that  impressed  me  while  it  impressed 
her  —  everything  associated  with  her  presence,  with- 
out my  being  aware  of  it  at  the  time,  produced  on 
me  an  im2Dression  which  awakes  suddenly,  like  a 
flash  of  lightning.  My  life  is  in  the  past ;  happily 
it  lives  in  me  more  than  I  can  tell,  and  every  day 
more  and  more  —  every  day  I  remember,  I  fix  the 
date  and  the  place  of  some  conversation,  some  trifling 
event  —  a  word,  a  visit,  a  pleasure  we  enjoyed  to- 
gether—  some  detail  of  our  life  for  fifteen  years.  I 
shall  recover  every  bit  of  it,  I  hope.  It  is  only  in 
this  way  that  I  can  once  more  enjoy  what  made  my 
happiness  in  the  past' 

Amidst  these  cherished  memories,  this  deejj  sad- 
ness and  this  cruel  void,  the  idea,  the  influence,  and 
the  character  of  Mademoiselle  Dillon  gradually 
made  themselves  felt.  She  was  twenty-four  years 
old;  her  rare  culture,  her  developed  intelligence, 
and  the  important  duties  wliich  had  devolved  upon 
her  for  so  many  years,  had  precociously  matured  her 
cliaracter ;  her  position  in  life  appeared  to  be  settled : 
she  was  strong,  calm,  and  entirely  occupied  in  sup- 
porting with  her  energy  all  around  her ;  her  mind, 
liowever,  was  not  wholly  satisfied.  On  the  thir- 
teenth of  July,  1827,  she  wrote  to  her  sister:  — 

'  You  tell  me,  dear,  that  I  seem  to  have  given  up 
the  idea  of  marrying,  and  that  you  are  very  sorry 
for  it     You  are  wrong.     I  am  persuaded,  more  than 

7 


98  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

any  one,  that  real  happiness  —  if  happiness  belongs 
to  this  world  —  is  to  be  found  only  in  niamage,  and 
I  long  for  it,  I  should  enjoy  it,  more  ardently  than  I 
can  ever  tell,  even  to  you.  But  I  will  not  sacrifice 
one  iota  of  the  conditions  which  seem  to  me  neces- 
sary for  securing  it  to  my  desire  for  enjoying  it ; 
my  moderate  fortune,  my  determination  not  to  leave 
my  father,  and  many  other  reasons,  narrow  the  circle 
in  which  I  might  choose.  It  is,  therefore,  possible 
that  I  may  never  maiTy,  and  I  should  certainly  mucli 
prefer  a  single  life  to  an  imperfect  maniage. 

'  I  should  require  a  very  great  many  things  to 
make  up  for  the  loss  of  my  liberty  —  for  giving  up 
my  tastes  and  interrujDting  my  studies,  to  make  me 
forget  that  I  no  longer  belonged  to  myself,  and  that 
I  ought  to  find  my  happiness  in  subordination,  and 
in  absorption  into   another  existence.     Touch  my 
heart,  obtain  my  love,  admiration  and  respect,  and  I 
should  become  the  most  docile  of  slaves ;  but  I  am 
determined  that  I  will  not  give  myself  away  for  less. 
I  can  contemplate  calmly  a  whole  life  passed  as  mine 
is  now.     All  I  want  is  to  preserve  the  objects  of  my 
love,  the  ties  which  unite  me  to  the  past,  which  I 
loved  so  well.    If  I  were  sure  of  keeping  you  always 
with  me — you  who  are  the  darling  of  my  heart — I 
should  fear  nothing  in  the   future,  but  I  renounce 
this  hope,  I  wish  you  above  all  things  to  marry ; 
your  character  requires  it.     I  cannot,  therefore  de- 
pend upon  you.    I  must,  liowever,  have  some  one  to 
devote  myself  to ;  some  one  that  my  mother  loved, 
and  that  I  may  cherish  for  the  love  of  her.     In  my 


HIS    SECOND   MARRIAGE.  99 

dreams  of  a  life  of  celibacy  I  devote  my  active  life  to 
my  excellent  father :  it  is  his  old  age  that  I  shall 
make  beautiful,  it  is  his  health  and  his  enjoyment 
that  I  shall  take  care  of  when  he  will  no  longer 
suffice  to  himself  This  is  all,  dear,  that  I  have  to 
say.  I  do  not  renounce  marriage,  but  I  do  not  make 
it  the  sine  qua  non  of  my  destiny.  If  I  find  the 
husband  I  want,  well  then  I  shall  enjoy  paradise 
upon  earth  —  love  in  marriage  :  if  not,  with  you  and 
my  father  and  Maurice,  with  my  friends,  my  books 
and  my  poor  people,  I  shall  spend  an  agreeable,  and, 
I  hope,  in  some  respects  a  useful  life  ! ' 

The  day  came  when  this  happiness  suddenly  burst 
upon  the  life  of  Mademoiselle  Dillon  and  re-entered 
that  of  M.  Guizot.  No  one  was  better  acquainted  than 
he  was  with  the  mind  that  he  had  seen  formed ;  the 
little  faults  of  temper  which  he  used  to  find  in  her 
disappeared  on  the  approach  of  happiness.  '  Elisa  is 
no  longer  conceited,'  said  the  Duchesse  de  Broglie, 
'  for  all  her  love  is  satisfied.'  Her  influence  sweet- 
ened the  whole  family  circle,  she  brought  into  it  so 
much  good  temper,  charm,  and  easy  joyous  activity; 
she  became  quite  natui'ally  a  daughter  to  M.  Guizot's 
mother,  and  a  mother  to  his  son. 

'Francois'  behaviour  to  me  is  charming,'  she 
wrote  to  her  sister  on  the  twenty-third  of  August, 
1828;  'he  looks  after  me  in  the  kindest  manner;  he 
has  taken  my  relation  to  his  fixther  completely  in  the 
right  way;  I  was  afraid  that  he  might  find  it  difficult 
to  accustom  himself  to  the  deference  M.  Guizot  shows 
me,  to  my  freedom  with  him,  and  that  my  familiar 


100  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN    PRIVATE   LIFE. 

tone  miglit  scandalize  him  as  wanting  in  respect;  not 
at  all — it  seems  to  him  quite  natural,  and  this  is  a 
great  comfort  to  us.  I  shall  try  all  I  can  to  make  all 
who  loved  my  aunt,  love  me  also.  Do  I  not  owe 
this  to  her,  and  especially  to  him,  to  whom  I  owe 
everything  f  But  everything  will  be,  everything  is, 
easy  for  me ;  I  do  not  see  one  discontented  face,  I 
am  surrounded  with  affection.  May  God  protect 
me,  for  I  am  too  happy  ! ' 

True  hajjpiness  is  a  rare  and  salutary  spectacle, 
and  it  was  afforded  by  Madame  Elisa  Guizot  to  all 
who  approached  her  as  long  as  God  permitted  her 
to  live. 

She  was  married  on  the  eighth  of  November,  1828. 
Even  her  best  friends  can  hardly  call  to  mind  or 
separate  the  details  of  her  individual  life,  it  was 
henceforth  so  entirely  absorbed  in  that  of  her  hus- 
band, so  devoted  to  his  interests,  his  affairs,  and  his 
occupations.  She  worked  for  him,  she  observed  for 
him,  she  read  and  talked  only  for  him.  Tlie  strength 
and  independence  of  her  mind  remained,  however, 
always  the  same  ;  she  reflected  much,  and  her  intel- 
ligence grew  and  developed  day  by  day. 

In  her  early  youth,  under  the  influence  of  a 
somewhat  narrow  religious  teaching,  she  had  suf- 
fered from  many  doubts  and  scruples,  from  which 
she  escaped  by  means  of  the  philosophical  atmos- 
phere around  her;  she  now  embraced  the  wide  and 
simple  faith  which  suited  her  intelligence  and  her 

lir 

heart.  '  I  can  imagine  two  ways  of  being  earnestly 
and  sincerely  religious,'  she  writes  to  her  sister:  'one, 


MADAME  GUIZOT,  NEE  ELIZA   DILLON. 


HIS    SECOND    MARRIAGE.  101 

the  product  chiefly  of  our  reasoning  faculties,  founds 
itself  on  the  demonsti-ation  of  the  existence  of  God, 
arrived  at  by  the  contemphation  of  the  order  of  the 
world  and  the  necessity  for  a  first  cause ;  it  pro- 
claims the  immortality  of  the  soul  as  a  necessary 
consequence  of  our  moral  nature,  and  counts  upon 
final  remuneration,  because  the  recompense  for  good 
and  evil,  which  ought  to  be  the  law  by  right,  does 
not  reign,  in  foct,  in  this  world,  and  the  right  must 
triumph  in  the  end. 

'  One  may  also  become  religious  from  an  ardent 
love,  which  nothing  in  this  world  can  satisfy ;  from 
an  instinctive  purity  which  revolts  from  the  sight  of 
evil  and  the  mixture  of  good  and  bad  here  below  : 
from  the  aching  of  the  heart,  which  seeks  some  cer- 
tain satisfaction  in  another  world  for  the  vague  and 
sublime  presentiments  which  lead  us  to  the  infinite. 
Intelligence  and  feeling  are  also  sources  of  religion. 
I  think,  dear  Pauline,  that  neither  of  these  ways 
alone  is  the  good  one,  that  God  is  not  satisfied  with 
the  homage  of  our  heart  or  our  reason  alone,  that 
only  when  we  offer  to  Him  an  understanding  en- 
lightened by  cultivation  and  a  soul  filled  with  holy 
love  do  we  fulfil  His  just  claims. 

'  Nevertheless,  dearest,  we  must  own  that  both 
these  ways  of  being  religious  exist  apart,  and  that 
they  have  made  great  men  and  martyrs.  Our  nature 
is  so  incomplete  that  a  very  feeble  dose  of  truth  may 
be  enough  for  it,  but  it  must  have  this  dose,  it  must 
grasp  it  heartily  and  receive  it  in  all  sincerity.  How, 
then,  could  you  imagine  that  I  could  like  the  book 


102  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN    PRIVATE   LIFE. 

on  whose  subjects  I  liave  written  to  you  at  such 
length  ?  I  find  in  M.  Benjamin  Constant  neither 
intellectual  nor  spiritual  purity.  He  has  never 
troubled  himself  about  intellectual  belief;  he  lias 
not  once  thought  of  affirming  that  he  believes  in 
God ;  he  expresses  the  utmost  impiety  in  his  argu- 
ments. He  mocks  at  unbelievers,  but  why  ?  Be- 
cause they  speak  ill  of  religion,  not  because  they 
are  irreligious.  As  for  religious  feeling,  he  finds  it 
everywhere,  and  gives  out  none  of  it  himself;  he 
describes  its  errors  with  complacency  and  its  satis- 
factions with  indifference ;  he  resembles  a  diy,  worn- 
out  cynic,  who  tries  to  get  up  a  little  excitement  to 
pass  away  the  time.  I  can  allow  a  catechism  to  be 
dull,  and  a  book  of  religious  ecstasy  to  be  exagger- 
ated;  but  to  write  on  religion  and  be  dull  and 
exasffferated  at  the  same  time  is  too  much,  and  I 
cannot  stand  it.' 


CHAPTER  IX. 

1828-30. 

RENEWED    HAPPINESS HE   RE-ENTERS    PUBLIC    LIFE. 

M.  Guizot's  work  at  this  time  required  the  assistance 
of  his  wife,  to  wliom  it  gave  a  large  share  in  his 
intellectual  activity.  She  waded  through  the  cor- 
respondence which  the  editing  of  the  Revue  Fran(^aise 
involved ;  she  read  the  books  which  were  to  be 
reviewed,  and  often  wrote  notices  of  them  with  a 
tact  and  elegance  which  added  greatly  to  the  lite- 
rary value  of  the  review ;  she  also  put  her  solid 
historical  knowledge  at  her  husband's  service  in  the 
preparation  of  his  lectures.  While  studying  and 
writing  with  equal  assiduity,  he  was  observing  the 
state  of  the  public  mind  under  the  ministry  of  M.  de 
Polignac  —  at  that  time  on  the  eve  of  the  blunders 
which  could  not  fail  to  occasion  fresh  disturbances. 

M.  Guizot's  friends,  like  himself,  had  long  stood 
apart  from  the  Government,  but  they  continued  to 
take  the  liveliest  interest  in  politics,  although  they 
devoted  themselves  to  intellectual  pursuits.  He 
assisted  them  with  sympathy  and  advice  ;  he  wrote 
from  Agen  to  M.  Dxnnon  :  — 


104  MONSIEUR    GUIZOT   IN    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

'  I  congratulate  you  on  your  establishment.  Do- 
mestic happiness  and  a  country  place  in  which  you 
may  strike  root,  are  well  worth  the  noise  of  Paris, 
and  even  the  pleasant  society  which  you  lose.  If 
only  you  do  not  let  yourself  be  paralyzed  by  the 
want  of  intellectual  animation  about  you,  I  advise 
you  to  regret  nothing.  We  have  nothing  to  do  but 
to  wait ;  you  ought  to  acquire  a  settled  position,  lay 
the  foundation  for  future  influence  and  for  your  can- 
didature at  the  next  elections,  and  be  patient,  while 
you  enjoy  your  happiness.  If  we  could  establish  a 
man  like  you  in  every  department,  and  in  an  equally 
good  position,  we  should  do  more  for  the  future  than 
by  all  our  fine  speeches.  Come  and  see  us  some- 
times, however,  and  write  to  us ;  we  must  disperse, 
but  not  separate ;  the  net  must  be  spread  out,  but 
the  stitches  must  always  hold  together. 

'  I  am  delighted  that  you  think  of  taking  up  his- 
tory ;  you  are  right,  I  think,  in  not  choosing  a 
merely  literary  subject;  the  spirit  which  animates 
literature  at  present  is  still  so  vague  and  so  feeble 
that  it  would  be  difficult  for  you,  from  your  retreat, 
to  follow  its  complicated  vicissitudes.  History  is 
more  definite,  and  the  new  method  of  studying  it 
more  settled.  The  public  are  certainly  acquiring  a 
taste  for  it ;  if  you  cany  out  your  plan,  you  may 
expect  much  more  than  a  provincial  success.  You 
will  find  my  one  great  difficulty  —  to  limit  your 
subject. 

'  Aquitaine  has  gone  through  so  many  dislocations 
and  metamorphoses  that  its  history  will  draw  you  in 


RENEWED   HAPPINESS.  105 

turn  into  the  histories  of  all  sorts  of  countries ;  Spain, 
England,  &c.  You  will  have  the  same  fate  as  M.  de 
Barante  in  his  History  of  the  Dukes  of  Burgundy ; 
yours  will  be  even  worse,  for  Aquitaine  has  never 
been  so  settled  as  Burgundy,  nor  have  its  masters 
ever  been  so  distinguished  as  the  Valois  Dukes  of 
Burgundy.  You  will  have  to  struggle  with  this 
difficulty.  I  advise  you  to  keep  your  history  as 
much  as  possible  connected  with  that  of  France,  and 
to  leave  on  one  side,  or  give  only  a  passing  notice, 
to  those  portions  of  Aquitaine  which  have  belonged, 
for  instance,  to  Spain.  As  to  the  information  you 
ask  for,  open  the  Bibliotheque  Hlstoriqiie  de  la  France, 
by  the  Pere  Le  Long  ;  you  will  find  in  it,  especially 
in  the  third  volume  in  the  article  on  Guyenne,  an 
almost  complete  list  of  all  the  public  documents. 
Auteserve's  two  works,  Berum  Aquitanicarum  libri 
decern  —  the  five  former  on  ancient  Aquitaine,  the 
five  latter  on  Aquitaine  from  the  time  of  Clovis  to 
1137  —  are  capital  books.  They  were  printed  at 
Toulouse,  in  quarto,  in  1648  and  1657.  The  History 
of  Languedoc,  by  the  Benedictines ;  and  tliat  of 
Beam,  by  Du  Marca,  are  the  two  best  that  have 
been  written  of  all  the  frontier  provinces,  and  will 
be  of  great  service  to  you.  From  the  end  of  the 
twelfth  century,  look  closely  at  the  history  of  the 
kings  of  England  who  possessed  Aquitaine ;  all  the 
French  historians  have  neglected  this.  If  you  treat 
at  any  length  of  Aquitaine  before  the  invasions  of 
the  Goths  and  the  Franks,  and  you  wish,  for  exam- 
ple, to  discover  the  origin  of  its  first  inhabitants, 


106  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

Humboldt's  new  work  on  the  Basques  will  be  neces- 
sary. There  is  reason  for  thinking  that  the  Basques 
are  a  remnant  of  the  Iberians,  the  ancient  inhabi- 
tants of  Spain  who  occupied  Aquitaine.  For  the 
rest,  I  put  myself  at  your  disposal  for  any  informa- 
tion I  may  be  able  to  give  you ;  do  not  be  shy  in 
asking,  I  am  continually  giving  up  my  time  to  people 
for  whom  I  care  infinitely  less  than  I  do  for  you,  and 
I  shall  be  delighted  to  be  of  use  to  you  in  any  way. 
If  you  will  take  my  advice,  you  will  pay  much 
attention  to  the  feudal  times,  as  they  speak  more  to 
the  imagination  of  the  public  than  any  other.  For  a 
long  while  those  times  were  only  known  by  the  well- 
merited  aversion  that  they  inspired ;  now,  whatever 
people  may  say,  they  have  ceased  to  be  objects  of 
fear,  and  are  becoming  objects  of  interest.  When 
you  have  thoroughly  made  up  your  mind,  and  are 
at  work,  send  me,  if  you  like,  some  definite  ques- 
tions ;  I  will  try  to  help  you.' 

M.  Guizot  wrote  to  M.  de  Barante  on  the  twenty- 
first  of  September,  1829,  six  weeks  after  the  forma- 
tion of  M.  de  Polignac's  ministry:  — 

'My  dear  friend,  you  see  how  they  have  begun, 
I  have  not  much  to  tell  you.  Yesterday  morning, 
M.  de  la  Bourdonnaye  was  asked  what  he  intended 
to  do.  "  I  know  nothing,  I  want  nothing,  I  do  noth- 
ing," is  his  reply.  This  is,  in  fact,  their  whole  pol- 
icy. If  the  Chamber  were  to  meet  to-morrow, 
perhaps  they  would  resign  to-day;  perhaps  they 
would  make  a  cou^  ductal;    both  are  possible,  and 


^-  '^o'^iAr. 


■      CHATEAUBRIAND. 


RENEWED    HAPPINESS.  107 

we,  the  public,  believe  sometimes  the  one,  some- 
times the  othex":  on  the  whole,  the  chief  feature  is 
their  impotence,  they  feel  it,  and  we  may  hope  that 
this  will  bring  about  the  end.  They  are  over- 
whelmed with  refusals  and  resignations.  I  am,  there- 
fore, very  hopeful,  and  if  the  ending  be  good  it  will 
be  very  good,  for  we  shall  have  an  unanswerable 
reason  for  everything  that  ought  to  be  done.  Nev- 
ertheless, I  find  it  hard  to  believe  that  in  that  event 
they  will  allow  themselves  to  fall  without  offering 
any  resistance,  their  accession  to  power  has  shown 
that  everything  is  possible  —  the  powerful  influence 
which  raised  them  may  support  them  through  thick 
and  thin.  We  shall  see ;  but  at  any  rate,  the  crisis 
will  decide  a  great  many  things.  It  would  come 
much  more  quickly  if  the  Journal  des  Debats  were 
acquitted,  and  everything  seems  to  indicate  that  it 
will  be  in  the  "  Cour  Boyale."  The  Cour  de premiere 
instance  is  less  certain :  they  have  in  it  a  cruel  enemy 
who  every  day  does  them  more  harm. 

'  The  resignation  of  M.  de  Chateaubriand  is  fully 
expected.  Victor*  wrote  to  me  before  all  this  was 
known,  that  his  professions  are  excellent,  that  he 
speaks  with  the  utmost  scorn  of  M.  de  Polignac's 
attempt,  and  will  belong  only  to  a  Liberal  ministry. 
The  fi-iends  of  M.  de  Mortemart  say  that  when  he 
has  received  two  or  three  disagreeable  dispatches, 
which  will  render  his  position  unpleasant,  he  will 
probably  retire  also.     The  King,  for  some  unknown 


The  Due  de  Broglie.  —  Tb. 


108  MONSIEUR    GUIZOT   IK   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

reason,  speaks  of  M.  de  Martignac  with  peculiar  bit- 
terness. Ravez  is  certainly  to  be  made  a  peer.  M. 
de  Polignac  and  M.  de  Cliabrol  continue  to  indulge 
in  the  hope  of  a  majority.  "We  have  already  180 
votes,"  says  Chabrol,  "  and  we  gain  more  every 
day."  La  Bourdonnaye  is  more  sensible,  and  has 
fewer  illusions.  Whatever  happens  you  may  be 
sure  that  next  spring  will  not  find  us  where  we  now 
are,  we  shall  either  have  won  the  day  or  be  deliber- 
ating how  to  pay  the  costs. 

*  All  this  may  distract  your  attention  from  the 
Parlement  de  Paris*  Go  on  working,  however,  it 
will  always  be  so  much  done.  You  are  quite  right 
in  thinking  that  placitum  is  of  Latin  derivation. 
The  word  is  employed  in  Roman  jurisprudence,  and 
signifies  contract,  convention.  Is  it  not  singular  that 
it,  as  well  as  the  word  convention,  should  have  served 
for  both  a  contract  and  an  assembly?  The  latter 
meaning  was  given  to  it  after  the  invasion,  but  its 
history  is  exactly  similar  to  that  of  the  word  conven- 
tion, with  the  exception  that  the  first  sense  of  the 
word  placitum  was  a  contract,  whilst  the  first  sense 
of  convention  was  an  assembly ;  the  one  began  by 
designating  a  meeting  of  persons,  and  the  other  a 
union  of  opinions ;  but  in  both  cases  the  meanings 
have  been  interchanged. 

'  Mallum,  mahl,  is  an  ancient  German  word,  and 
its  history  is  the  same,  for  it  also  has  signified  a  con- 
tract and  an  assembly,  and  the  trace  of  this  double 


A  work  by  M.  de  Barante. 


RENEWED    HAPPIKESS.  109 

meaning  is  still  found  in  German,  on  the  one  hand, 
in  the  words  GemaJil  and  Vermiilden,  which  express  a 
marriage-contract,  and  in  the  other  in  Mahlzeit,  a 
meal-time,  or  an  assembly  for  taking  a  meal.  As  to 
whether  the  words  mallum  and  placitum  were  syn- 
onymous, I  am  a  little  uncertain  ;  I  think,  however, 
that  mallum  was  used  to  designate  an  assembly  of 
free  men  in  general,  without  any  regard  to  the  busi- 
ness in  hand,  while  placitum  indicated  rather  a  judi- 
cial assembly.  Its  metamorphosis  into  the  word 
plead,  seems  to  confirm  this  supposition.  After  all, 
the  difference  in  the  meaning  of  these  two  words 
chiefly  results  from  the  difference  of  date.  Malil  be- 
longs to  the  time  when  everything  was  transacted  in 
assemblies  of  freemen  ;  placitum  to  that  in  which  only 
legal  cases  were  judged  in  these  assemblies ;  many 
restrictions,  however,  must  be  observed  in  making 
this  distinction. 

'  As  to  the  word  parliamentiim,  it  certainly  was  not 
used  before  the  beginning  of  the  twelfth  century.  It 
is,  without  doubt,  neither  piu-ely  German  nor  purely 
Latin  ;  it  is  Roman,  and  dates  from  the  time  when 
the  new  languages  began  to  make  their  appeai'ance 
either  in  the  south  or  in  the  north  of  Gaul.  It  is 
found  both  in  the  south  and  in  the  north,  in  Prov- 
ence and  in  Normandy.  What  is  its  origin  ?  I  am 
not  at  all  sure.  All  this  groiiji  of  words,  parole, 
parler,  parlement,  are  of  doubtful  origin.  I  do  not 
believe  much  in  Celtic  or  Gaelic  derivations,  espe- 
cially for  Avords  in  general  daily  use,  which  we  meet 
for  the  first  time  in  the  twelfth  century.     I  have 


110  MONSIEUR    GUIZOT    IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

often  looked  for  the  etymology  of  ParUamentiim, 
but  without  success.  I  will  not  send  you  all  the 
hypotheses  that  I  have  made  by  post,  they  would  be 
too  long ;  but  you  may  be  satisfied  that  the  word 
was  first  used  in  modern  language. 

'Good  bye;  my  wife  is  well,  and  my  daughter 
likewise,  it  was  the  most  normal  confinement  that 
ever  was  seen,  and  the  child  prospers  as  well  as 
possible.  My  son  succeeded  pretty  well  in  his  ex- 
amination, he  is  nominated  for  the  public  examina- 
tion, and  he  has  obtained  two  first  prizes  and  four 
accessits.  He  is  not  satisfied,  and  I  am  very  glad 
that  he  is  not ;  he  wants  to  gain  prizes  at  the  public 
examination.  Adieu!  this  is  a  volume.  Ever  yours. 
When  will  you  send  me  an  article  for  the  Revue  f  ' 

Active  and  personal  political  life  was  opening  for 
M.  Guizot,  while  he  was  discussing  the  meaning  of 
the  word  Parliament.  Hitherto  he  had  been  kept  out 
of  the  Chamber  by  his  youth,  but  towards  the  end 
of  the  year  1827,  he  was  nominated  by  the  united 
arrondissements  of  Pont  I'Eveque  and  Lisieux,  in  the 
room  of  M.  de  Vauquelin,  the  celebrated  chemist, 
who  died  on  the  fifteenth  of  October.  The  election 
took  place  on  the  twenty-third  of  January,  1830,  and 
M.  Guizot  was  chosen  by  a  large  majority.  He  had 
never  visited  his  constituency,  and  he  owed  to  his 
reputation  alone  the  political  supporters  who  soon 
became  his  faithful  and  devoted  friends.  M.  Guizot's 
first  speech  was  in  support  of  the  address  of  the 
221,  which  was  attacked  by  M.  Berryer,  in  a  maiden 
speech. 


ELE   RE-ENTERS    PUBLIC    LIFE.  Ill 

All  thoughtful  and  earnest  men  were  profoundly- 
anxious  and  distressed.  M.  Guizot  was  continuing 
his  lectures,  which  he  made  studiously  and  exclu- 
sively abstract.  He  succeeded  in  maintaining  an 
external  calm  in  his  audience,  but  their  real  agita- 
tion did  not  diminish.  When  the  king  announced, 
first  the  prorogation  (on  the  nineteenth  of  March, 
1830),  and  next,  the  dissolution  of  the  Chamber  (on 
the  sixteenth  of  May,  1830),  M.  Guizot,  whose  re- 
election for  Calvados  was  safe,  went  to  Nimes,  to 
lend  his  personal  assistance,  which  seemed  likely  to 
be  of  use,  to  his  friends. 

It  was  the  first  time  that  he  had  quitted  his  wife ; 
she  found  it  difficult  to  reconcile  herself  to  the  sep- 
aration, on  the  fifteenth  of  June  she  says  in  a  letter 
to  her  sister: 

*  I  write  to  you  with  a  sick  heart,  my  Pauline ; 
my  husband  went  away  this  morning,  and  I  have  to 
endure  twenty-eight  or  twenty-seven  days  of  sepa- 
ration !  It  is  very  long  and  very  hard  to  bear.  I 
cannot  tell  you  what  I  have  gone  through  during  the 
last  few  days  ;  I  could  not  look  at  him  without  my 
eyes  filling  with  tears,  and  I  hated  time  for  passing 
so  quickly  on  towards  the  moment  for  our  separation. 
He  left  me  this  morning,  at  eight  o'clock,  and  I  think 
I  am  really  better  since  he  went ;  for  when  the  first 
angixish  was  over  I  became  calmer,  and  I  have  begun 
dwelling  upon  his  return.  For  the  last  three  months 
I  do  not  believe  that  I  have  passed  a  single  hour 
without  the  idea  of  this  day  pressing  on  my  heart ; 
now  that  it  has  come  I  recur  to  the  one  which  will 


112  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

restore  to  me  my  husband,  not  to  leave  us  again,  I 
hope,  except  for  a  few  days  at  a  time.  If  only  you 
were  here,  my  dear  sister.  You  are  the  only  creature 
under  the  sun  to  whom  I  would  allow  a  glimpse  of 
what  is  passing  in  my  heart ;  in  writing  one  can  tell 
so  little.  I  shall  take  my  little  girl  into  my  room 
to-night,  I  am  looking  forward  to  this  with  great 
pleasure —  if  I  could  speak  of  pleasui-e  just  now.  I 
am  making  some  alterations  in  the  furniture  of  the 
drawing-room,  so  I  have  established  myself  in  M. 
Guizot's  study ;  he  wished  me  to  do  so,  and  I  think 
I  shall  like  it  better  than  the  loneliness  of  the  other 
room.  I  remember  that  when  you  left  us  several 
da,js  passed  before  I  could  make  up  my  mind  to 
enter  your  room,  I  did  so  at  last  only  by  chance,  it 
gave  me  so  much  pain  to  see  it  without  you  in  it. 
To  pass  the  time  I  intend  to  work ;  I  have  an  article 
on  Uhland's  poetry,  to  appear  in  the  next  niunber  of 
the  Revue.  I  shall  write  my  notes,*  and  then  I  shall 
take  up  the  Gauls  again,  and  describe  Ctesar's  war. 
Whenever  it  is  fine  in  the  evening  I  shall  walk  out 
with  Henriette,  in  the  morning  I  shall  go  out  only 
to  visit  my  Refuge  and  my  poor  people.  This  will 
be  my  life.' 

Absence  was  very  painful  to  Madame  Guizot, 
when  anxiety  was  added  to  it  it  seemed  almost  more 
than  she  could  bear.  Her  husband  wrote  to  her 
from  Nimes,  on  the  twenty-sixth  of  June,  1830. 
'  Set  your  mind  at  rest ;   if  there  were  any  danger 


*  Madame  illisa  Guizot  had  begun  a  History  of  France  for  Children, 


''W  ...J.^' 
0^^'' 


CASIMIR   PERIER. 


HE   RE-ENTERS    PUBLIC   LIFE.  113 

in  my  political  life,  I  should  wish  you  to  be  with 
me,  I  would  send  for  you  if  you  were  not  with  me 
already.  We  are  united  for  better  and  for  worse. 
You  would  suffer  a  thousand  times  more  at  a  distance 
than  near  me ;  we  have  those  to  whom  we  can  ti-ust 
our  children;  our  duty  to  them,  the  care  of  their 
safety  covdd  alone  oblige  us  to  be  separated ;  and 
this  precious  care  would  be  taken,  if  necessary,  by 
others  who  deserve  our  unlimited  confidence.  Do 
not,  therefore,  be  in  the  least  uneasy,  my  Elisa,  when 
the  storm  breaks  out  we  shall  be  united,  we  will 
fight  with  it  or  bear  it  together.  Will  it  come  soon  ? 
I  do  not  think  so.  The  struggle  is  severe,  more 
severe  than  it  appears  to  those  at  a  distance,  the  two 
parties  are  deeply  engaged,  and  hour  by  hour  be- 
come so  more  and  more.  The  Government  is  pos- 
sessed by  a  fever  of  selfishness  and  stupidity ;  the 
Opposition  is  fighting  passionately,  though  with 
much  self-restraint,  against  the  difficulties  and  anxi- 
eties of  a  position  equally  embarrassing  from  a  legal 
and  a  moral  point  of  view.  Tlie  knowledge  that  it 
has  the  law  on  its  side  gives  it  power  and  courage  to 
continue  the  battle,  without  inspiring  it  with  any 
certainty  of  success ;  for  in  almost  every  direction 
the  most  important  guarantee  is  wanting,  and  after 
sustaining  a  long  and  valiant  struggle  we  run  the 
risk  of  finding  ourselves  suddenly  disarmed  and 
powerless.  There  is  the  same  anxiety  and  incon- 
gruity in  the  moral  situation ;  the  Opposition  de- 
spises the  Government,  and  yet  has  to  treat  it  as  its 
superior ;  the  officials  are  contemptible,  and  yet  are 

8 


114  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

set  up  on  high  ;  the  remembrance  of  imperial  power 
and  grandeur  still  serves  them  for  a  pedestal ;  they 
are  looked  at  without  respect,  dirt  is  thrown  at 
them,  and  they  richly  deserve  it ;  but  it  is  from  be- 
low, with  anger  and  terror  combined,  that  these 
insults  are  aimed  at  them.  Here  are,  undoubtedly, 
many  of  the  elements  of  a  disturbance,  perhaps  even 
of  a  crisis ;  but  as  soon  as  the  explosion  seems  at 
hand,  or  even  possible,  all  draw  back,  all  fear  it,  no 
one  hopes  to  derive  from  it  the  satisfaction  of  any 
strong  desire  or  ardent  hope.  In  reality  it  is  only 
from  order  and  peace  that  any  one  nowadays  ex- 
pects any  good ;  only  regular  means  are  trusted, 
and  this  is  the  real  guarantee  for  the  future,  a  giiar- 
antee  which,  for  a  long  time,  unless  some  extraordi- 
nary circumstances  intervene,  will  bring  the  river 
back  into  its  bed,  at  the  very  moment  when  it  seems 
most  likely  to  break  away  from  its  course.' 

These  extraordinary  circumstances  were  prepar- 
ing, and  were  destined,  to  precipitate  the  country 
into  courses,  on  which  for  several  months  it  had 
been  anxiously  gazing,  without  the  slightest  desire 
to  plunge  into  them.  The  postponement  of  the 
elections  put  off  M.  Guizot's  return.  He  solaced 
himself,  in  a  degree,  by  conversing  with  his  wife 
when  absent,  just  as  he  did  when  present,  carried 
away  by  the  desire  for  intimate  communion  and 
lavish  expression  of  thought  and  feeling,  which  he 
reserved  for  a  very  few,  bvit  which  to  those  few  was 
a  constant  source  of  intense  happiness. 

'  I  talk  about  the  elections ;  I  go  on  as  if  we  were 


HE    RE-ENTERS    TUBLIC   LIFE.  115 

together;  then,  I  am  not  obhged  to  economise  my 
time ;  I  have  enough  to  spend  with  you,  I  may  talk 
of  indifferent  things,  I  can  tell  you,  whenever  I  like, 
those  which  are  deeply  seated  in  my  heart.  But 
now,  when  I  am  far  from  you,  and  can  hardly  give 
you  an  horn*  a-day,  I  ought  to  speak  of  nothing  but 
of  you  and  me,  of  our  happiness  and  our  life.  In- 
deed, this  is  my  instinct,  and  it  almost  always  costs 
me  an  effort  to  tell  you  a  word  of  anything  else. 
You  must  not  think,  dearest,  that  I  have  a  less  pro- 
found, less  steadfast  conviction  of  our  happiness  than 
you  have ;  although  I  feel  keenly  our  annoyances, 
although  I  call  them  deductions  from  the  happiness 
of  our  lives,  my  heart  is,  nevertheless,  filled  with 
joy  and  gratitude.  But  I  tell  you  everything,  I  pour 
out  to  you  all  my  thoughts ;  and  when  they  are 
written  from  a  distance  of  200  leagues,  and  reach 
you  after  an  interval  of  four  days,  they  seem  to  you 
to  occupy  me  much  more  exclusively  and  contin- 
ually than  they  really  do.  My  Elisa,  no  one,  not 
even  you,  has  a  firmer  faith  than  I  have  in  Provi- 
dence —  is  more  sincerely  submissive  than  I  am  to 
His  Will  —  but  when  my  intellectual  transformation 
took  place,  when  my  opinions  became  settled,  I 
turned  my  thoughts  chiefly  towards  the  order  of  the 
Universe,  the  destiny  of  man,  the  course,  the  laws, 
and  the  aim  of  his  development.  It  was  while  con- 
sidering these  subjects  that  the  conviction  of  the 
Divine  intervention  flashed  upon  me,  and  I  recog- 
nised, clearly  and  irresistibly,  the  Supreme  Mind 
and  Will.     They  manifest  themselves  to  me,  in  the 


116  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

history  of  the  world,  as  clearly  as  in  the  movements 
of  the  stars.     God  shows  himself  to  me,  in  the  laws 
which  regulate  human  progress,  as  evidently — much 
more  evidently,  as  I  think  —  than  in  those  which 
direct  the  rising  and  setting  of  the  sun.     In  short, 
to  tell  you  all  my  thoughts,  the  history  of  humanity 
has  for  me  blanks  —  large  blanks  —  but  no  mys- 
teries.    There  is  much  that  I  cannot  see,  but  nothingf 
that  I  do  not  believe.    Millions  of  facts  are  unknown 
to  me,  but  nothing  ever  startles  me ;  my  eyes  are 
too  weak  to  see  everything,  but  they  know  that 
there  is  daylight  everywhere.      This  is  the  chief 
foundation  of  my  faith.     It  is  by  dwelling  on  the 
spectacle  afforded  by  the  human  race,  its  present 
life,  and  ultimate  destiny,  that  I  have  acquired  an 
entire  certainty,  a  perfect  confidence  in  the  wisdom, 
the  goodness,  and  the  persistent  action  of  Provi- 
dence.    His  action  on  each  one  of  us  in  particular, 
His  motives  in  the  fate  of  individuals,  are  much  less 
plain  to  me.     I  do  not  doubt,  but  I  do  not  see  as 
clearly  :  at  every  step  I  meet  some  mystery.    I  know 
that  one  occasionally  sees  the  reasons  and  the  moral 
results  of  the  trials  God  inflicts  on  individuals,  and 
that  in  other  cases  one  perceives  that  He  has  tem- 
pered the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb.     But  I  also  meet 
with  opposite  and  equally  uncontrovertible  instances : 
trials  where  the  sufferer  has  succumbed  morally,  and 
with  no  apparently  good  result  —  miseries  which  are 
beyond  all  power  of  endurance. 

'  I  repeat,  dearest,  when  I  see  these  things  I  do 
not  doubt,  I  do  not  murmur;  but  I  cannot  under- 


HE   RE-ENTERS    PUBLIC    LIFE.  117 

stand,  I  cannot  see,  I  fall  back  into  mystery  —  terri- 
ble mystery.  My  belief  in  God  does  not  fail  me ; 
bnt  it  is  not  from  such  spectacles  that  I  derive  it ; 
elsewhere  —  in  contemplating  the  general  order  of 
the  Universe,  I  find  the  support  which  enables  my 
faith  to  stand  fast :  but  it  would  not  stand  fast  with- 
out this  support.  In  fact,  when  I  think  of  the  de- 
signs of  Pi-ovidence  with  regard  to  each  individual, 
I  bow  before  them  with  humility,  for  I  feel  I  am  in 
the  dark.  When  it  is  a  question  of  the  designs  of 
God  with  regard  to  the  human  race,  I  contemplate 
and  I  adore,  for  light  pours  in  upon  me  from  every 
direction.' 

In  Paris  Madame  Elisa  Guizot  was  hard  at  work, 
she  was  taking  care  of  her  great  school-boy  Franqois, 
and  of  her  little  daughter  Henriette ;  she  devoted  a 
great  deal  of  time  to  her  mother-in-law,  and  yet  did 
not  neglect  politics.  She  writes  on  the  fifteenth  of 
July :  — 

'  My  head-ache  is  nearly  gone.  After  writing  to 
you  I  was  able  to  work  ;  I  am  re- writing  my  chapter 
on  the  state  of  Gaul,  and  I  shall  have  to  Avrite  it  a 
third  time,  but  it  is  an  important  bit,  —  I  shall  spare 
no  trouble  over  it.  I  think  that  I  shall  be  obliged 
to  retouch  the  chapter  on  the  Gallic  wars,  in  which 
are  introduced  several  traits  of  character  of  the 
Gauls  ;  this  was  also  your  impression  —  we  will  look 
at  this  together  when  you  have  time.  I  have 
Fleury's  Ecclesiastical  History,  and  I  am  going  to 
read  it.  I  shall  also  study  Neander.  As  I  have  to 
treat  of  the  establishment  of  Christianity  among  the 


118  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

Gauls,  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  read  a  learned  work 
on  the  first  centuries  of  the  Church.  I  shall  not  put 
any  of  this  learning  into  my  book,  but  it  will  influ- 
ence it,  and  perhaps  I  shall  find  some  interesting 
and  curious  details.  Besides,  when  I  have  studied 
these  two  works  I  shall  turn  them  to  account  in 
another  way,  I  shall  write  for  the  Revue  an  article 
on  Neander's  -History,  comparing  it  with  Fleury's. 
Taken  in  this  way  the  subject  will  excite  more  gen- 
ei*al  interest ;  when  the  article  is  written  we  will  put 
it  in  your  portfolio  to  use  when  the  opportunity  pre- 
sents itself;  the  article  may  wait,  the  daily  papers 
and  the  Revue  de  Paris  will  not  forestall  it. 

'  I  am  going  to  Mousseaux,  but  I  shall  take  no 
books;  Pauline  (Madame  de  Remusat)  goes  Avith  me; 
she  sent  her  nurse  to  propose  this  to  me ;  my  morn- 
ing will  be  unproductive,  and  thanks  to  you  and  to 
eight  poor  people  whom  I  saw  this  morning,  I  shall 
have  done  nothing  to-day  but  write  to  you  and  cor- 
rect the  first  proofs  of  Une  Famille  — this  will  really 
be  a  very  pretty  edition,  I  am  delighted  with  it. 

'  Your  mother  and  I  went  yesterday  to  the  Tui- 
leries  Gardens,  and  we  talked  a  great  deal  about  her 
sorrow,  of  the  effect  it  produced  on  her,  of  her  fidelity 
to  your  father's  opinions,  of  your  education.  Your 
poor  mother  burst  into  tears  :  she  said,  "  My  grief  is 
only  a  matter  of  history  to  my  children,  they  were 
too  young  to  feel  it ;  for  twenty  years  I  spent  every 
night  sitting  on  my  bed,  bathed  in  tears ;  I  con- 
trolled myself  in  order  not  to  sadden  them  ;  your 
husband  had  an  extraordinary  instinctive  tenderness, 


HE    EE-ENTEKS    PUBLIC   LIFE.  119 

he  saw  my  sorrow  and  the  strug-gle  it  cost  me  to 
live  —  without  my  children  I  could  not  have  existed 
—  but  I  had  the  conviction  of  a  double  task  laid 
upon  me;  my  poor  darUng  had  trusted  me,  and  I 
may  say  that  I  fulfilled  all  his  wishes.  I  brought 
up  my  chikben  entirely  myself,  I  spared  myself 
neither  in  mind  nor  in  body ;  the  only  thing  which 
I  cannot  correct  in  myself  is  my  tendency  to  exact 
too  much  from  them,  but  I  think  that  God  will  for- 
give me  this  fault !  "  Dearest,  my  eyes  filled  with 
tears  while  I  listened  to  her.  She  told  me  she  had 
lived  three  lives :  a  somewhat  careless  youth,  eight 
years  of  happiness,  and  all  the  rest  sorrow  ;  she  has 
passed  thirty-five  years  in  tears,  and  she  has  never 
found  a  heart  that  sympathised  entirely  with  her 
own.  I  love  her  and  she  loves  me  better  and  better 
every  day ;  I  think  that  we  shall  agree  thoroughly 
on  Henriette's  education. 

'  I  have  been  speaking  with  M.  de  Guizard  about 
the  Revue  Bramatique ;  he  is  inclined  to  give  M. 
Felix  the  musical  part  and  take  all  the  rest  on  him- 
self, making  it  into  one  article.  It  seems  to  me  that 
this  would  ansAver  very  well,  he  would  do  it  admi- 
rably, and  in  the  tone  and  spirit  of  the  Revue.  I 
shall  see  M.  de  Langsdorflf;  he  will  do  only  what  he 
likes,  but  I  think  he  would  be  charmed  to  write  in 
the  Revue. 

'It  is  said  that  M.  de  Peyronnet  has  spoken  to 
some  of  the  members  of  the  Centres*  and  that  the 


*  See  p.  69.  —  Tr. 


120  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

king  found  it  out.  At  the  Council,  on  Sunday,  M.  de 
Peyronnet  spoke  of  the  elections  and  their  impor- 
tance ;  he  uttered  the  words  moderation  and  lc(jaUty  ! 
The  king  became  angry,  and  told  him  testily  that  he 
had  not  expected  advice  of  that  sort  from  him,  and 
also  that  there  was  no  use  in  trying  to  recompose 
the  Ministry ;  that  he  knew  that  some  members  of 
Council  thought  of  it,  but  that  they  might  save  them- 
selves the  trouble,  and  that  if  he  thought  it  advisable 
to  do  so  he  would  do  it  himself,  and  according  to  his 
own  wishes.  I  obtained  this  information  from  the 
Globe.  M.  Cotte  came  to  see  me  yesterday,  but  I  had 
gone  out  with  your  mother;  I  am  sorry,  for  the 
Temps  seems  to  be  well  informed.  For  the  last  three 
or  four  days  people  have  begun  again  to  talk  of 
coups  d'etat;  the  Univers  has  once  more  become 
violent ;  the  Quotidienne  talks  of  nothing  but  good 
laws  to  be  brought  forward.  These  two  newspapers 
seem  to  represent  the  different  opinions  of  MM.  de 
Polignac  and  de  Peyronnet.  Have  you  read  M. 
Berryer's  speech  1  It  is  entirely  in  favour  of  legal 
measures;  he  talks  of  the  institutions  established 
by  the   Charter. 

*  Good-bye,  dearest.  What  a  letter  !  My  heart 
feels  light  when  I  think  that  half  the  time  of  our 
separation  is  over ;  but  how  long  it  has  been,  how 
many  days  of  our  happiness  lost ! ' 

The  secret  of  the  hesitations  as  well  as  of  the 
resolutions  of  Charles  X.  had  been  well  kept ;  those 
who  were  best  informed  were  ignorant  of  the  immi- 
nence of  the  danger  which  they  had  so  long  dreaded. 


^■l\Qflfl      —   r^  ^- 


.6,Ai 


CHARLES  X. 


HE   RE-ENTERS    PUBLIC   LIFE.  121 

'I  left  Nimes  on  the  twenty-third  of  July,  1830, 
satisfied  with  the  elections  in  which  I  had  taken 
part,  with  the  state  of  feeling  I  had  found,  and  en- 
tirely occupied  with  the  thought  of  how  it  was  nec- 
essary to  proceed  in  order  to  obtain  for  the  decided, 
but  at  the  same  time  moderate  and  honestly  ex- 
pressed, wishes  of  the  country,  a  predominant  influ- 
ence in  the  Chambers,  and  a  favourable  reception 
from  the  king.  It  was  only  on  the  twenty-sixth, 
while  passing  through  Pouilly,  that  I  obtained  from 
the  guard  of  the  mail  the  first  intelligence  of  the 
decrees.*  I  reached  Paris  on  the  twenty-seventh, 
at  five  in  the  morning,  and  at  eleven  M.  Casimir 
Perier  invited  me  to  his  house,  where  a  meeting  of 
several  of  our  colleagues  was  appointed. 

'  The  struggle  had  scarcely  begun  and  already 
the  entire  establishment  of  the  Restoration — persons 
and  institutes — was  in  visible  and  urgent  danger.  A 
few  hours  before,  and  within  a  shoi-t  distance  of 
Paris,  the  decrees  w-ere  unknown  to  me ;  and  by  the 
side  of  legal  opposition,  I  saw,  on  my  arrival,  revo- 
lutionary and  unchained  insurrection.  The  journals, 
the  courts  of  justice,  the  secret  societies,  the  assem- 
blies of  peers  and  deputies,  the  National  Guard,  the 
citizens  and  the  populace,  the  bankers  and  the 
labouring  classes,  the  drawing-rooms  and  the  streets, 
every  regulated  or  unlicensed  element  of  society, 

*  The  three  celebrated  Ordonnances  of  Charles  X.  which  occa- 
sioned the  Revolution  of  1830.  The  first  was  to  suspend  the 
liberty  of  the  press,  the  second  to  dissolve  the  Parliament,  the 
third  to  set  aside  the  Charter.  —  Tr. 


122  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

either  yielded  to  or  pushed  forward  the  general 
movement.  On  the  first  day,  tlie  cry  was,  Long  live 
the  Charter !  Down  with  the  Ministers !  On  the 
second.  Up  with  Liberty  !  Down  with  the  Bourbons  ! 
Long  live  the  Mepublic !  Long  live  Napoleon  the 
Second!  The  decrees  of  the  preceding  eve  had  been 
seized  on  as  the  signal  for  exploding  all  the  irrita- 
tions, hopes,  projects,  and  political  desires  accumu- 
lated during  sixteen  years.'  * 


*  From  the  English  translation  of  M.  Giiizot's  Memoirs,  voL  ii. 
p.  2. 


CHAPTER  X. 

1830-32. 

POLITICAX,   VICISSITUDES THE    CHOLERA. 

There  was  but  one  person,  one  course  of  action 
that  seemed  capable  of  arresting  tbe  revolution  and 
of  restoring  order  to  the  country  by  securing  its 
liberties.  The  accession  of  King  Louis-Philippe  in 
1830  gave  to  France  eighteen  years  of  peace,  of  good 
and  free  government ;  it  afforded  her  a  resting-place 
amidst  the  long  succession  of  shocks  and  agitations 
which  have  disturbed  her  career  for  nearly  a  century. 
Those  who  lent  a  hand  to  the  work  of  July,  1830, 
believed  that  they  were  founding  a  durable  edifice ; 
their  brilliant  hopes  for  the  future  consoled  them  for 
the  sadness  and  anxiety  of  the  present ;  these  hopes 
were  in  themselves  happiness.  M.  Guizot  spent  three 
months  at  the  Home  Office  (Ministere  de  VInterieur) 
in  reorganizing  almost  the  whole  government,  giving 
audiences  at  four  in  the  morning,  and  being  found 
every  day  at  two  sittings  in  the  Chamber.  '  You 
will  require  M.  Guizot  for  a  long  time,'  M.  Casimir 
Perier  said  to  the  king ;  '  tell  him  not  to  kill  him- 
self at  once  in  your  service.' 


124  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

In  the  beginning  of  November,  the  members  of 
the  Council  who  formed  the  nucleus  of  resistance 
to  revolutionary  tendencies  —  MM.  de  Broglie,  Casi- 
mir  Perier,  and  Guizot  —  retired,  and  M.  Lafitte 
became  President  of  the  Council 

Madame  Guizot  had  taken  an  enthusiastic  interest 
in  the  anxieties  and  annoyances  of  her  husband,  she 
likewise  shared  his  hopes  and  his  triumphs ;  but  the 
duties  of  the  new  life  which  she  was  called  upon  to 
lead  weighed  upon  her  much  more  than  its  pleasures 
afforded  her  enjoyment. 

'  All  this  is  like  a  dream,'  dear  sister,  she  wrote  on 
the  fourth  of  August,  from  the  Ministere  de  Vlnte- 
rieur ;  '  the  noisy  magnificence  of  this  house  tires 
me.  I  am  determined,  should  I  stay  here,  to  lead 
the  simplest  life  possible,  except  on  ceremonial  occa- 
sions.' 

After  M.  Guizot  quitted  office,  the  violence  of  par- 
liamentary discussion  left  no  time  for  repose  or  do- 
mestic life ;  it  was  only  when  they  were  at  Broglie 
in  May,  1831,  that  M.  and  Madame  Guizot  at  length 
enjoyed  a  few  peaceful  days,  after  a  tour  that  he  was 
obliged  to  make  in  the  arrondissements  of  Lisieux 
and  Pont-l'Eveque.  During  his  absence  Madame 
Guizot  wrote  to  her  sister :  — 

'I  am  very  comfortable  here;  I  am  enjoying 
greatly  the  perfect  quiet  of  this  house  and  not  hav- 
ing to  listen  to  politics  all  day  long. 

'  For  eight  months  I  have  been  living  on  the 
treadmill,  or  in  a  furnace,  whichever  you  like  to  call 
it ;  the  opening  of  the  Chambers  will  send  me  back 


LAFFITTE. 


POLITICAL    VICISSITUDES.  125 

to  it,  and  I  am  delighted  to  take  beforehand  a  lono- 
bath  of  repose.     But  to  make  it  perfect,  I  want  M. 
Guizot  by  my  side ;   away  from  him  I  do  not  live ; 
my  only  interest  in  the  day  is  to  see  it  come  to  an 
end ;  my  mind  is  impatient,  and  counts  each  hour, 
each  minute  which  must  pass  till  that  one  comes 
which  will  bring  him  back  to  me.     This  is  not  the 
way  to  rest  oneself     Therefore  I  look  forward,  as  a 
real  rest,  only  to  the  ten  days  which  we  shall  spend 
here  after  his  final  return  —  then  only  I  shall  be  able 
to  enjoy  the  country  and  its  tranquil  beauty  at  my 
ease.     In  the  meantime,  I  am  enchanted  by  the 
happiness  of  my  little  Henriette ;   she  enjoys  her- 
self thoroughly,  spends    her  life    in    the  open  air, 
goes    in    and    out,    gathers    flowers,    makes    little 
gardens,  and  grows    fatter  and  rosier  every   day. 
I  am  convinced  that  this  visit  will  do  her  infinite 
good.' 

On  the  second  of  May  M.  Guizot  wrote  to  his 
wife  from  Honfleur,  after  seeing  the  sea  for  the  first 
time,  a  pleasure  which  he  had  always  promised  him- 
self to  share  Avith  her :  — 

'I  am  in  despair  at  having  only  half-an-hour  to 
write  to  you  in  ;  what  have  I  not  to  tell  you !  I 
have  been  spending  four  hours  on  the  sea-shore, 
from  one  headland  to  another.  I  have  been  over  a 
small  man-of-war.  The  weather  was  splendid  ;  now 
a  storm  is  coming  up. 

'  You  are  not  here.  It  is  a  strange  experience  to 
have  a  sharp  sensation  of  delight  which  turns  in- 
stantly into  one  of  pain,  and  yet  the  delight  comes 


126  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

back  of  itself,  sharp  and  irresistible,  in  spite  of  my 
efforts ;  in  vain  it  changes  to  pain,  in  an  instant  the 
pleasure  returns ;  I  can  neither  shut  it  out  nor  silence 
it.  I  have  just  been  passing  four  hours  in  feeling  it 
and  losing  it ;  never,  perhaps,  have  I  been  in  such  a 
completely  involuntary  state,  able  neither  to  reject 
nor  to  enjoy.  It  was  no  sudden,  extraordinary  sen- 
sation that  the  sight  of  the  sea  gave  to  me ;  I  felt 
my  mind  unfold  itself  easily  and  naturally,  as  if  it 
had  hitherto  wanted  space,  and  that  in  the  presence 
of  this  immense  and  equable  space  it  was  able  at 
last  to  enjoy  fully,  and  to  move  freely.  It  was  an 
emotion  calm  at  first,  but  constantly  growing  strong- 
er ;  gentle,  and  yet  powerful ;  every  minute  seizing 
hold  of  me  more  and  more  2)owerfully,  and  nailing 
me  to  the  spot  and  to  the  sight.  Why  were  you  not 
there  ?  Why  were  we  not  alone  ?  We  will  come 
here  some  day.  I  have  already  promised  this  both 
to  you  and  myself,  and  then  I  shall  feel  real  and 
entire  satisfaction.  Four  hours,  dearest !  Four  hours 
without  you,  in  the  midst  of  all  this  mental  agita- 
tion, and,  meanwhile,  keeping  up  an  incessant  con- 
versation with  five  people.  I  am  tired  to  death  ! 
But  I  must  tell  you  that  the  sea  is  incomparable, 
even  at  Honfleur,  that  the  situation  of  Honfleur  is 
beautiful,  and  that  the  people  here  are  so  charming 
as  to  talk  constantly  of  you.  I  must  say  good-bye. 
What  is  my  little  girl  doing  I  Dear  child  !  I  should 
like  to  know  if  some  vagfue  recollection  of  me  often 
enters  her  little  mind,  if  my  image  sometimes  floats 
before  her  eyes.     Give  her  a  kiss  from  me. 


POLITICAL   VICISSITUDES.  127 

'  To-day  we  have  the  great  banquet.  Yesterday  I 
met  fifteen  constituents  at  dinner,  and  thirty  in  the 
evening.  They  cleverly  invited  two  or  three  half- 
opponents,  uncertain  as  to  their  votes.  We  talked 
politics.  I  told  tlie  story  of  the  last  nine  months. 
To-day  I  shall  repeat  it  with  a  little  more  ceremony. 

'  I  am  sjioiled  here.  There  are  a  great  man}- 
people  who  are  first-rate,  and  a  great  many  others 
who  are  sensible  and  have  good  intentions,  but  who 
need  much  enlightenment.  They  know  nothing, 
and  imderstand  nothing.  Of  all  this  public  talk 
which  deafens  us,  only  a  few  sentences  are  echoed 
from  time  to  time  in  a  commune  containing  two  or 
three  electors.  What  they  hear  disturbs  more  than 
it  instructs  them.  They  do  not  understand  the 
political  terms  or  the  connection  of  events.  We  can 
form  no  idea  of  their  ignorance,  or  of  the  effect  pro- 
duced in  their  minds  by  the  shreds  of  information 
—  facts,  speeches,  and  newspapers  —  which  fall  from 

time  to  time  into  their  hands Good-bye ; 

I  am  going  to  have  a  first-class  meeting.  Speeches 
will  be  made,  I  shall  repl}'.  Toasts  will  be  given,  I 
shall  give  others  in  return.  Nothing  will  be  want- 
ing. I  should  like  to  see  my  little  girl  in  the  midst 
of  all  this  hubbi^t) ;  she  frould  begin  to  cry.  Adieu  ! 
adieu  !  They  have  found  me  for  my  rounds  a  little 
mare,  which  is  said  to  have  charming  paces.' 

M.  Guizot  returned  to  Broglie  on  the  twenty- 
second  of  May ;  a  few  days  afterwards  he  went  back 
to  Paris.  This  separation  which  they  each  found  so 
difficult  to  bear,  Avas  to  be  the  last  before  the  final 


128  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

parting.  On  the  twenty-second  of  June  the  birth 
of  a  second  daughter  added  another  joy  to  their 
already  great  and  deeply-felt  happiness. 

'  I    am    happy,   very  happy,   in   every   respect,' 
Madame  Guizot  wrote  to  her  sister,  whom  she  had 
the  satisfaction  of  seeing  well  married  to  M.  Decourt, 
the  sous-prefet  of  Bethune.     '  If  God  will  bestow  a 
little  peace  on  this  countr}^,  if  He  will  but  protect  us 
from  dangers  the  terror  of  which  has  given  us  many 
sleepless  nights ;  if  only  I  have  nothing  to  fear  for 
the  beloved  objects  to  whom  my  life  is  bound,  no 
creature  will  owe  more  heartfelt  gratitude  to  the 
sovereign  Disposer  of  all  good.    What  do  I  not  owe 
Him  already,  dear  sister  f     He  has  given  me  your 
happiness,  the  only  thing  that  was  wanting  to  mine.' 
The  cholera  had  just  broken  out  in  Paris ;  the  new 
and  terrible  visitor,   Avho  revealed  with    an  awful 
distinctness  the  hideous  corruption,  as  well  as  the 
greatness  of  human  nature.     The  poor,  who  at  first 
were  alone  attacked  by  the  disease,  were  for  an  in- 
stant earned  away  by  the  wild  terror  which  caused 
so  many  frightful  massacres  in  the  plagues  of  the 
Middle  Ages.     It  was  only  a  passing  impiilse  ;  soon 
the  calm,  strong  measures  of  the  Government,  the 
admirable   courage   displayed   by  the   priests,   the 
doctors,    and   by  women,    re-animated   and   raised 
the  spirits   of  the   people.      Temporary   hospitals, 
erected  by  private  charity,  helped  the  insufficiency 
of  the  ordinary  resources.      Madame  Guizot  spent 
her  life  among  the  poor,  whom  she  had  long  been  in 
the  habit  of  visiting  with  affectionate  assiduity. 


THE   CHOLERA.  129 

*  After  the  cruel  scenes  of  the  last  few  days,'  she 
writes  to  her  sister  on  the  sixth  of  April,  1832,  'quiet 
has  returned,  but  my  mind  is  still  quite  upset  by 
them  ;  the  sight  of  so  much  misery  lacerates  me,  and 
that  of  so  mucli  folly  and  crime  overwhelms  me. 
Our  plans  for  the  summer  are  more  uncertain  than 
ever ;  we  shall  not  quit  Paris  as  long  as  the  cholera 
is  here ;  we  do  not  wish  either  to  leave  or  to  take 
away  our  collegians.*  Besides,  we  think  it  wrong  to 
abandon  the  poor  to  this  scourge;  tliey  alone  suffered 
from  it  at  first ;  now,  although  the  evil  is  abating, 
there  is  great  alarm  in  the  world  that  fills  the 
drawing-rooms,  which  has  seen  several  of  its  mem- 
bers fall  victims.  Thousands  of  the  poor  fell  without 
the  minds  of  the  rich  being  much  affected ;  to  rouse 
them  it  was  necessary  to  strike  home.  Let  us  pray 
that  this  scourge  may  be  stopped,  there  are  surely 
enough  victims.' 

A  few  days  later  Madame  Guizot  had  to  endure 
the  agony  of  the  most  terrible  anxiety,  for  her  hus- 
band was  violently  attacked  by  cholera.  The  utmost 
care  and  skill,  added  to  the  calm  bravery  of  the 
patient  himself,  soon  banished  all  danger ;  he  was 
convalescent  on  the  sixteenth  of  May,  when  M. 
Casimir  Perier,  who  had  been  attacked  by  the  epi- 
demic, died  like  a  valiant  soldier  struck  down  at 
his  post.  '  Poor  M.  Perier,'  Madame  Guizot  writes 
to  her  sister.  '  I  told  you  yesterday  that  he  was 
better,  but  he  died  this  morning  at  seven  o'clock. 


Fran9ois  Guizot  aud  Madame  Guizot's  nephew.  —  Tr. 
9 


130  MOXSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

The  very  evident  improvement  noticed  for  the  last 
few  days  stopped  on  Sunday  evening  ;  on  Monday 
he  was  not  so  well,  but  we  still  tried  to  persuade 
ourselves  that  it  was  only  one  of  the  ups  and  downs 
natural  aftei'  such  a  terrible  illness ;  yesterday,  how- 
ever, it  was  no  longer  possible  to  hope.  M.  Guizot 
went  out  for  the  first  time  to  visit  this  house  @f 
mourning  ;  M.  Perier  was  at  the  point  of  death,  my 
husband  wished  much  to  see  him  once  more,  but  as 
his  eyes  were  still  open,  though  their  light  was 
dimmed,  the  emotion  of  a  recognition  was  feared, 
and  M.  Guizot  was  deprived  of  this  sad  satisfaction. 
I  regretted  it  less  than  he  did,  for  I  am  sure  that  it 
would  have  done  him  harm  ;  he  Avas  much  affected 
by  the  hour  he  passed  in  the  house  of  his  poor  friend. 
He  was  sincerely  attached  to  M.  Perier,  more  so 
than  I  was  aware  of;  he  found  in  him  qualities  of 
rare  excellence,  which  it  was  my  husband's  nature 
fully  to  appreciate.  We  are  also  much  grieved  by 
the  death  of  poor  M.  Cuvier;  he  noted  all  the  details 
of  his  own  illness  with  scientific  pi'ecision,  and  he 
regretted  life  for  the  sake  of  the  great  works  which 
he  had  not  been  able  to  finish.  Adieu,  dearest,  my 
heart  is  too  heavy  to  write  more.' 

The  cholera  was  nearly  over,  even  in  the  depart- 
ments which  it  reached  later,  and  in  which  it  re- 
mained longer,  than  it  did  in  Paris.  The  alarm  was 
beginning  to  sober  down  ;  in  some  places  it  had 
been  so  excessive  that  the  Due  and  Duchesse  de 
Broglie  were  obliged  to  perform  the  last  duties  for 


THE    CHOLERA.  131 

the  victims  who  fell  caround  them  in  Normandy,  just 
after  they  had  the  grief  of  losing  a  charming  girl  of 
fifteen.  M.  Guizot  wrote  on  the  twenty-eighth  of 
May  to  the  Due  de  Broglie  :  — 

'  How  are  you  all  at  Broglie,  my  dear  friend  1  I 
regret  extremely  that  I  am  not  able  to  join  you  there 
at  once,  I  should  bring  with  me  what  we  all  want, 
and  you  more  than  any  of  us  just  now  —  a  great 
deal  of  sympatliy  and  a  little  variety. 

'One  can  never  say  all  that  one  feels;  even  in 
the  closest  friendship  there  are  infinite  reserves  and 
reticences,  but  it  seems  to  me  as  if  your  loss  were 
mine,  I  feel  it  as  a  personal  grief;  I  always  see 
before  me  that  lovely  child  —  calm,  transparent,  and 
brilliant,  like  a  beautiful  lake  in  sunshine.  It  gave 
me  so  much  pleasure  to  look  at  her,  to  anticipate 
the  happy  future  promised  by  the  inward  harmony 
which  showed  itself  in  the  sweet  tranquillity  of  her 
brilliant  eyes,  in  her  gentle  movements,  and  her 
frank  smile.  I  rejoiced  both  for  your  sake  and  hers 
in  your  affection  ,for  her,  and  looked  forward  with 
pleasure  to  the  consolation  which  you  Avould  all 
derive  from  it  in  the  trials  of  life. 

'  If  we  were  together  I  should  probably  not  tell 
you  one  word  of  all  this,  but  you  could  not  help 
feeling  that  my  thouglits  answered  yours,  and  at 
the  same  time  I  should  help  you  not  to  give  your- 
self up  entirely  to  them.  We  are  never  consoled, 
nothing  can  console  us,  not  even  a  new  source  of 
happiness ;  but  we  grow  calm,  we  regain  possession 
of  our  faculties  and  of  our  lives.     We  keep   and 


132  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

guard  jealously  in  our  minds  a  cherished  memory 
to  which  we  do  not  in  any  way  sacrifice  the  future. 
It  is  for  this  that  we  must  constantly  strive,  and  it 
is  to  help  you  in  this  that  I  wish  I  were  with  you. 
But  our  house  is  still  a  hospital.  M.j  mother  has 
been  very  unwell ;  she  is  better,  and  I  am  assured 
that  in  a  few  days  all  traces  of  her  illness  will  have 
disappeared.  As  for  me,  I  am  quite  well,  my 
strength  came  back  with  a  rapidity  that  astonished 
everybody.  I  can  walk  two  or  three  leagues  with- 
out fatigue;  all  that  i-emains  is  a  constant  recur- 
rence of  sharp  pain  over  the  eyebrows.  Open  air, 
exercise,  and  quiet,  will  cure  me.  I  am  beginning 
to  recover  the  power  of  working,  although  I  do  not 
use  it  as  yet.' 

The  excitement  of  the  riots  of  June,  1832,  suc- 
ceeded the  excitement  of  the  cholera,  which,  indeed, 
had  not  wholly  disappeared.  A  few  days  later  M. 
Guizot  wrote  to  M.  de  Broglie :  '  Do  not  be  afraid, 
dear  friend,  that  the  powers  given  by  the  proclama- 
tion of  the  state  of  siege  will  be  abused.  Clumsily 
enough  it  was  proclaimed  twenty-four,  or  at  least 
twelve  houi-s  too  late ;  but  we  shall  use  our  poAver 
as  little  as  possible,  if  at  all.  A  few  domiciliary 
visits,  a  great  many  fire-arms,  perhaps  a  few  papers 
seized,  and  the  moral  effect  produced  by  the  evi- 
dence of  victory  —  this  is  all.  I  do  not  know  wheth- 
er there  will  be  any  trials  by  court-martial.  A  few 
such  trials  would  have  been  useful  during  the  three 
days,  but  now  it  is  too  late.     It  is  evident  that  the 


LOUI.S    rHILU'l'K    AT    THE    HIJTEL    DE    VILLE. 


THE  CUOLERA.  133 

people  do  not  know  how  to  use  or  to  lay  down  this 
terrible  weapon. 

'  Here  is  a  true  and  particular  account  of  what 
passed.  It  was  a  parody  on  the  Revolution  of  July, 
1830,  played  out  and  damned.  Nothing  was  want- 
ing, neither  the  Address  of  the  221  members,  under 
the  name  of  the  "  Memorial  of  '41,"  nor  the  ban-i- 
cades,  nor  the  attempt  to  lead  M.  de  La  Fayette  to 
the  Hotel  de  Ville,  nor  the  assembly  of  the  Depu- 
ties, nor  the  officers  to  interpose,  &c.  I  never  saw 
a  more  complete  and  servile  copy.  The  public 
hissed  angrily.  I  do  not  think  that  another  per- 
formance will  be  attempted  for  a  long  time.  Besides, 
the  government  has  regained  possession  of  the  guns: 
power  without  guns  is  as  impossible  as  power  with- 
out judgment.  Charles  X.  fell  for  want  of  judg- 
ment ;  we  tottered  for  want  of  guns.  "We  now  possess 
guns  as  well  as  judgment.  Lastly,  the  king  has 
exposed  his  own  person  —  naturally,  freely,  and  suc- 
cessfully. He  has  gained  popularity,  not  only  in 
the  streets,  but  in  society.  It  is  said  throughout  the 
Faubourg  St.  Germain  that  he  Avon  his  crown  on  the 
sixth  of  June.  This  is  what  we  have  really  gained. 
But  my  heart  bleeds  when  I  think  of  all  the  use  that 
might  be  made,  and  will  not  be  made,  of  this  capital. 
I  fear  that  we  shall  squander  it  instead  of  putting  it 
out  to  interest. 

'  Remusat  has  returned  from  London ;  he  is 
pleased  with  the  condition  of  England,  both  as  re- 
gards us  and  herself  Everything  seems  to  him  to 
indicate  that  the  national  good  sense  will  modify  all 


134  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

the  short-siglitedness  and  violence  of  the  Reform 
Bill  Ours  is  the  age  of  national  good  sense ;  we 
are  forced  to  believe  in  it  as  we  believe  in  God,  with- 
out seeing  it  anywhere,  and  almost  without  imder- 
standing  it ;  it  reveals  itself  in  its  works.  I  could 
wish,  I  must  own,  for  some  clearer  and  more  lasting 
manifestation  of  it.  I  have  a  great  liking  for  per- 
sonification, for  the  incarnation  of  goodness  and 
truth.  However,  I  do  not  complain ;  it  is  better  to 
have  the  real  Deity,  although  invisible,  than  idols. 

'  All  this  is  horribly  doctrinaire*  Pray,  keep  it 
secret.  Just  imagine  the  shrugs  of  certain  people 
whom  you  know  very  well,  and  clever  people  too,  if 
they  heard  such  language.  To  reach  the  public  we 
must  stoop  and  shrink  as  a  cat  does  to  pass  under  a 
door ;  it  is  the  sine  qua  non.  Sometimes  it  bores  me, 
sometimes  it  makes  me  angry,  yet  I  would  rather 
endure  it  than  give  up  action.  I  reserve  perfect 
freedom  and  the  proud  possession  of  my  own  mind 
for  the  quiet  of  old  age.  When  we  walk  about  at 
Broglie  with  stooping  backs  and  uncertain  steps,  we 
will  be  as  philosophical  and  as  doctrinaire  as  we 
please,  without  being  afraid  of  what  people  will  say. 

'  In  the  meanwhile,  I  wish  I  were  there,  doctrinaire 
or  not  doctrinaire,  to  breathe  at  my  ease,  free  from 
all  this  sometimes  awful  and  sometimes  feverish 
excitement.  We  are  all  very  well ;  my  mother  is 
recovering.  I  have  no  trace  left  of  the  cholera. 
Even  its  name  has  ceased  to  be  mentioned,  I  think. 


See  p.  55.  —  Tr. 


THE    CHOLERA.  135 

Again,  on  the  thirteenth  of  August  — 
'Will  you  then  n^ver  have  done  with  the  cholera  1 
They  say  here  that  its  appearance  at  Bordeaux  shows 
that  it  certainly  is  about  to  leave  us  —  that  it  makes 
these  sudden  jumps  when  it  really  is  going  away. 
In  trials  like  these  it  is  necessary  to  say  something ; 
people  feel,  without  knowing  why,  the  need  of 
frightening  as  well  as  of  reassuring  themselves.  In 
the  same  minute,  in  the  same  sentence,  they  alter- 
nately exaggerate  fear  and  hope.  We  now  are  able 
to  understand  Thucydides  and  Boccaccio.  It  is 
plain  that  without  the  efforts  of  science  and  civili- 
zation, (which,  in  spite  of  their  imperfections,  have 
done  wonders,)  we  should  have  had  in  the  streets 
the  frightful  spectacles  which  we  used  formerly  to 
accuse  of  poetical  exaggeration.  The  older  I  grow, 
the  more  absolutely  am  I  convinced  that  in  every- 
thing, in  the  portraiture  of  scenes  of  the  external 
world,  as  well  as  in  that  of  the  internal  mind,  the 
imagination  of  man  falls  far  short  of  reality.  There 
is  a  thousand  times  more  passion  in  a  heart  full  of 
deep  emotion  than  in  the  most  passionate  novel ;  a 
thousand  times  more  incidents  and  scenes  in  a  real 
event  than  M.  Hugo  or  M.  Dumas  could  compress 
into  a  melodrama.  Literature  is  only  a  pale  reflec- 
tion of  life,  and  the  happiness  and  misery  that  God 
creates  are  infinitely  greater  than  any  which  man 
can  paint. 

'  Orfila  still  lingers  ;  he  cannot  yet  be  considered 
convalescent,  and  they  say  there  is  as  much  cause 
for  fear  as  for  hope.     If  he  is  to  recover  there  will 


136  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

be  a  marked  improvement  a  week  hence :  but  he 
may  be  months  in  dying.  His  body  is  worn  out 
with  work  and  pleasure.  He  has  suffered  much, 
and  enjoyed  much.  His  loss  would  be  greatly  felt, 
for  it  seems  that  since  he  has  been  Principal  he  has 
developed  talents  for  government  —  a  natural  ascen*. 
dancy,  a  skill  in  managing  men — which  make  him 
invaluable  as  the  head  of  such  a  school.  He  has  led 
the  students  entirely  back  into  the  ways  of  study 
and  science.  Those  who  give  themselves  up  to 
politics  are  treated  as  fools,  and  much  despised.  On 
the  sixth  of  June  only  fifty  students  were  absent 
from  the  class. 

'  Not  four  would  be  absent,  I  am  sure,  if  the  sixth 
of  June  tried  to  repeat  itself,  for  all  the  world  would 
laugh  at  it,  seize  it,  and  stifle  it  in  a  second.  I  never 
saw  a  disturbance  so  cried  down,  or  such  a  perfect 
calm,  as  at  present.  Prosperity  is  returning  in  eveiy 
direction.  But  for  the  cholera,  the  improvement  in 
trade  would  have  been  very  great' 

^August  20th.  —  I  do  not  know  if  I  shall  achieve 
a  letter  to  you  this  morning.  I  am  going  to  the  dis- 
tribution of  the  prizes  after  the  great  examination 
{grand  concours).  Francois  and  Maurice  have  ob- 
tained nominations ;  they  have,  therefore,  left  college 
and  its  studies.  Frangois  will  attend  philosophical 
and  mathematical  classes.  It  will  be  a  new  world 
for  him  ;  he  is  disgusted  with  the  old  one.  It  re- 
quired all  his  gentleness  and  his  confidence  in  me  to 
prevent  this  last  year  of  Greek  and  Latin  from  be- 
coming nauseous  to  him.      There  is   evidently  in 


THE    CHOLERA.  137 

classical  studies  something  which  no  longer  answers 
to  the  present  condition,  the  natural  inclination,  of 
society  and  of  the  public  mind.  I  do  not  know  what 
it  is,  I  am  trying  to  find  out.  On  no  account  would 
I  abolish,  or  even  diminish,  classical  studies  —  the 
only  ones  which  in  boyhood  really  strengthen  and 
inform  the  mind.  I  approve  highly  of  those  few 
years  passed  in  familiar  intercourse  with  antiquity, 
for  if  one  knows  nothing  of  it,  one  is  never  anything 
but  an  upstart  in  knowledge.  Greece  and  Rome  are 
the  good  society  of  the  human  mind  ;  and  in  the 
midst  of  the  decline  of  every  other  aristocracy,  one 
must  endeavour  to  keep  this  one  standing.  Taken 
altogether,  I  consider  college  life  —  a  life  of  study 
and  liberty  —  as  intellectually  excellent.  From  it 
alone  are  sent  forth  strong,  natural,  and  refined 
minds ;  cultivated  and  developed  to  the  utmost,  yet 
without  any  false  bias  or  eccentricity.  I  am  struck 
more  and  more  by  the  advantages  of  a  classical 
education.  Nevertheless,  I  see,  as  in  the  instance 
of  my  son,  there  are  changes,  and  important  changes, 
to  be  made.  The  instruction  is  too  meagre  and  too 
slow :  and  the  intellectual  atmosphere  of  the  actual 
world  is  too  difi"erent  from  that  of  a  college.  The 
system  is  adapted  to  teach  very  large  classes ;  the 
consequence  is  that  the  superior  pupils  are  sacrificed 
to  the  inferior,  and  the  classes  are  so  large  because 
a  number  of  boys,  not  being  able  to  find  a  place 
where  they  may  learn  what  they  require  and  wish 
for,  go  there  to  learn  what  they  do  not  require  and 
do  not  wish  for.    If  the  truth  were  told,  our  colleges 


138  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

are  still  made  on  the  pattern  of  the  society  of  the  last 
century.  The  dreams  of  the  eighteenth  century,  the 
follies  of  the  Revolution  in  this  matter,  have  disgusted 
us  —  and  justly  —  with  the  new  experiments  which 
succeeded  so  ill,  and  in  returning  to  the  old  road  we 
have  fallen  into  the  old  gutters.  We  ought  to  get 
out  of  them,  but  with  great  pains  and  precaution, 
for  in  spite  of  everything,  our  colleges  and  their 
systems  are  worth  a  great  deal  more  than  the 
schools  which  M.  de  Tracy  and  M.  de  Laplace 
would  have  given  us  —  could  they  have  given  us 
anything,  which  would  have  lasted  only  as  long  as 
they  lasted  themselves. 


I.AFAYETi3. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

1832-33. 

PUBLIC  EDUCATION DEATH  OF  MADAME  ^LISA  GUIZOT. 

The  moment  was  appvoacliing  when  M.  Gulzot  was 
to  attempt  the  solution  oi'  the  great  problem  of  public 
education,  which  had  long  occupied  his  thoughts. 

From  the  twelfth  of  March,  1831,  when  M.  Casimir 
Perier,  immediately  after  the  sack  of  the  Archbishop's 
palace,  assumed  the  reins  of  government,  he  was  con- 
sistently supported  in  the  Chamber  by  M.  Guizot  and 
his  friends,  although  they  took  no  actual  part  in 
public  affairs.  The  death  of  the  great  captain,  who 
had  managed  the  ship  with  such  a  firm  hand,  left  it 
a  prey  to  the  violence  of  the  waves.  The  hesitation 
of  parties  was  great,  that  of  the  king  greater  still. 

'  There  is  no  news,'  M.  Guizot  wrote  to  M.  de 
Broglie,  on  the  fwenty-sixth  of  August,  1832,  'except- 
ing that  there  is  a  slight  breeze  getting  up,  which 
shows  that  we  are  nearing  land,  a  land  of  labour,  not 
of  rest.  There  is  renewed  activity,  new  combinations 
are  suggested,  insinuations  and  half-confidences  are 
whispered.  As  far  as  I  can  judge  our  course  is  not 
bad,  and  we  are  floating  towards  the  right  shore.  It 
would  be  impossible  to  remain  on  the  wrong  one;  but 


140  MONSIEUR    GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

it  is  difficult  to  find  the  right.  At  eight  o'clock  to- 
morrow morning  I  am  going  to  preside  at  some 
examinations  in  history,  at  the  Ecole  normale.  The 
pupils  who  are  leaving  have  written  some  remarka- 
ble themes,  full  of  a  real  historical  spirit.  I  want  to 
see  what  Michelet  has  taught  them.  I  do  not  trust 
his  method. 

'  I  am  delighted  the  cholera  is  leaving  you.  I  was 
as  much  afraid  of  the  gloom  it  produced  as  of  the 
danger.  Gloom  does  no  good  at  the  age  of  your 
children,  especially  a  gloom  at  which  one  looks  on  in 
sadness  and  idleness,  a  gloom  which  does  not  touch 
one  closely  enough  to  rouse  the  mind,  and  which 
weakens  instead  of  strengthening  it.  You  ought  to 
let  them  make  an  excursion  to  Havre.  Stagnation  is 
poison  for  the  young.  I  see  how  much  it  weighs  on 
my  son.  Pie  was  to  have  spent  his  vacation  in  travel- 
ling, and  in  field-sports,  witli  you,  and  in  Anjou  and 
Touraine.  He  gave  it  all  up  with  the  greatest  sweet- 
ness, to  please  me.  The  cholera  is  in  every  place 
where  he  intended  to  go,  I  gave  him  his  choice,  and 
he  did  not  once  hesitate.  I  shall  do  my  best  to  enliven 
his  vacation,  but  nothing  can  replace  external  move- 
ment —  new  places,  new  people,  and  the  first  experi- 
ence of  personal  liberty  and  individual  action.  When 
Rousseau  said,  'A thinking  man  is  a  depraved  animal,' 
he  turned  as  usual  a  small  truth  into  great  nonsense, 
but  the  small  truth  is  there  notwithstanding.  Our 
age  is  too  much  given  to  thought,  we  ask  too  much 
from  it,  alone  it  is  not  enousrh  to  animate  life.  Nature 
impels  us  outwards,  to  action.    It  is  from  without  that 


PUBLIC   EDUCATION.  141 

we  must  draw  food  for  the  inner  man,  and  if  we 
neglect  this  too  mucli,  the  mind  falls  into  a  morbid 
state.  I  have  learnt  all  this  from  experience,  for  in 
my  youth  I  disliked  action  ;  solitary  meditation  and 
my  own  feelings  were  the  sources  of  my  keenest  en- 
joyments. And,  even  now,  although  I  enjoy  action,  it 
is  not  my  natural  taste,  nor,  in  my  opinion,  a  satis- 
factory life.  In  it  one  is  struck  every  moment  by  the 
gross  imperfection  of  all  things ;  one  tires,  one  ex- 
hausts oneself  in  endeavouring  to  conquer  it,  and  in 
this  interminable  struggle  the  best  efforts  have  so  little 
apparent  result,  that  the  prize,  indeed,  is  not  worth 
the  pains.  The  position  of  a  spectator,  a  pure  and 
simple  thinker,  has  pleasures  which  are  much  more 
wide  and  free  ;  but  precisely  here  lies  the  evil,  so 
much  liberty  is  not  good  for  our  weakness.  We  need 
to  be  continually  restrained,  brought  back  by  the  nat- 
ural world  to  the  sense  of  the  duties  laid  upon  us,  and 
the  obstacles  surrounding  us.  We  try  to  walk  with 
our  eyes  bandaged,  and  we  find  that  we  cannot  walk 
ten  steps  in  a  straight  line.  This  is  what  happens  to 
pure  and  simple  theory,  it  is  blind  and  soon  goes 
astray.  And  when  this  discovery  has  been  made, 
when  one  is  once  convinced  that  action  is  necessary 
in  order  to  prevent  theory  from  turning  to  folly,  one 
must  make  up  one's  mind  to  accept  with  a  good  grace 
the  natural  and  normal  condition  of  mankind. 

'  You  will  agree  that  it  would  be  better  to  say  all 
this  than  to  write  it.  I  hope  that  you  miss  me  a 
little,  for  I  miss  you  extremely.  As  I  advance  in 
life  I  want  fewer  people,  but  I  Avant  more  than  ever 


142  MOlSrSIEUR   GUIZOT    IN    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

those  few.  Putting  aside  affection,  I  experience  two 
contradictory  impressions,  every  day  I  feel  my  mind 
grow  richer  in  observation,  in  ideas,  in  all  that  men 
like  to  communicate  to  each  other ;  and  at  the  same 
time,  every  day  the  nvimber  of  those  with  whom  I 
can  have  true  and  free  communication  becomes 
smaller,  thus  sympathy  and  mental  companionship 
are  every  day  more  necessary  and  less  frequent.  I 
shall  certainly  miss  my  holiday  as  much  as  Francois 
will  his  ;  I  look  forward  with  some  di'ead  to  the 
furnace  of  the  session,  which  will  begin  before  I  have 
been  able  to  refresh  myself  at  Broglie  after  the  two 
years  which  we  have  just  gone  tlirough  —  another 
sacrifice  to  which  I  must  resign  myself. 

'  M.  de  Talleyrand  is  better,  but  not  yet  well 
enough  to  start  for  London.' 

M.  de  Talleyrand's  business  in  Paris  was  still  more 
important  than  that  which  called  him  to  London. 
On  being  consulted  as  to  the  fonnation  of  a  new 
ministry,  he  advised  the  king  to  send  for  the  Due 
de  Broglie.  The  latter  accordingly  came  to  Paris, 
and  his  first  woi'd  as  well  as  his  final  resolution 
were,  that  he  would  not  enter  any  Cabinet  without 
M.  Guizot. 

After  a  few  days  of  hesitation  and  consultation, 
the  Ministry  of  the  eleventh  of  October  was  formed, 
which  assembled  round  the  King  Louis  Philippe  all 
those  powerful  elements  of  a  strong  government 
which  afterwards  fell  apart  with  such  fatal  results. 
M.  de  Broglie  became  Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs ; 
M.    Thiers,    Home    Minister;     Marshal    Soult   was 


--:^" 


MARSHAI,    SOVLT. 


PUBLIC    EDUCATION.  143 

President  of  the  Council ;  M.  Guizot  was  appointed 
Minister  of  Public  Education. 

'  As  you  are  obliged  to  go  back  into  the  furaace,' 
M.  Royer-Collard  writes,  on  the  fourteenth  of  Octo- 
ber, '  I  am  glad  that  you  are  to  be  IMinister  of  Public 
Education.  You  will  stand  in  the  breach,  but  at  any 
rate  you  will  have  had  the  merit  of  scaling  it ;  you 
will  not  be  hung  out  as  a  flag  of  defiance.' 

On  the  fourteenth  of  October  M.  Guizot  wrote  to 
M.  de  Barante  :  — 

'  My  dear  friend,  here  we  are  again  in  the  field. 
For  a  long  time  I  could  not  believe  that  the  right 
course  would  prove  so  soon  the  necessary  one.  The 
excitement  is  gi*eat,  but  not  greater  than  I  expected. 
All  the  old  disputes,  old  rivalries,  and  irritable  vani- 
ties, are  at  work.  These  are  our  great  impediments, 
but  I  hope  we  shall  overcome  them.  Tliere  is  a 
strong  party  against  us  and  a  strong  party  for  us. 

'  It  is  absolutely  necessary  that  we  should  first 
settle  our  foreign  affahs.  When  that  is  done  we  shall 
be  able  to  deal  with  other  matters.  It  were  easier  to 
rebuild  Lisbon  on  its  burning  and  shaking  soil  than 
to  set  up  again  a  disorganized  society.  This,  however, 
is  the  task  before  us.  j\I.  Perier  rendered  us  an  enor- 
mous service ;  he  stopped  material  disorder ;  but 
political  disorder,  intellectual  disorder  —  these  still 
remain  and  have  to  be  conquered.  I  have  always 
thought  well  of  our  country,  and  I  still  think  well  of 
it,  perhaps  better  than  ever;  but  I  see,  I  feel,  the 
obstacles,  and  I  sometimes  tremble.  Try  to  get  the 
good  sense  of  Europe  to  help  us  ;  we  need  the  exist- 


144  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE.  * 

ence  of  every  factor  of  reason  and  good  sense,  and 
we  must  gather  strength  wherever  we  can  find  it. 
Let  it  be  well  understood  that  we  are  playing  the 
great,  perhaps  the  last,  game  of  order  and  safety  in 
Europe,  and  that  all  honest  men,  all  men  of  sense, 
must  join  in  the  game.  If  we  employ  well  the  time 
that  remains  before  the  session  begins,  I  think  we 
may  be  sure  of  success. 

'  You  have  sent  me  a  charming  paper,  which  I  am 
going  to  print  and  to  circvilate,  either  in  the  Ecvue  de 
Paris,  or  separately.  Be  easy  as  to  the  authorship 
being  kept  secret.  The  whole  history  of  France  is 
in  it,  and  your  advice  as  to  the  present  is  turned  in 
a  way  which  will  be  favourably  received.  Send  me 
from  time  to  time  similar  articles  ;  I  promise  to  make 
good  use  of  them. 

'  You  will,  I  am  sure,  approve  of  my  refusing  any 
other  post  than  that  of  Public  Education.  I  shall 
not  utter  one  word  the  less  in  consequence,  and  the 
public  will  think  all  the  better  of  me.  We  shall  make 
every  possible  effort  to  rally  round  us  all  the  chiefs  of 
the  majority,  and  not  to  leave  out  M.  Dupin.  I  do 
not  despair,  we  shall  face  boldly  every  difficulty,  and 
not  allow  ourselves  to  be  discouraged  by  small  mis- 
takes and  failures.     Victor  *  is  in  excellent  spirits.' 

Tlnoughout  his  life  M.  Guizot  preserved  a  lively 
and  grateful  recollection  of  his  labours  at  this  time. 
He  has  desci-ibed  in  his  memoirs  the  works  he  at- 
tempted, the  hopes  he  entertained ;  some  that  were 
both  great  and  important  failed,  and  for  others  there 

*  The  Due  de  Brodie. 


PUBLIC   EDUCATION.  145 

was  no  time ;  others  again  were  the  germs  of  im- 
provements which  have  since  been  effected ;  the 
most  important  of  all,  the  organization  of  primary- 
instruction  in  France  has  resisted  every  shock  and 
triumphed  over  every  attack.  The  work  which  the 
Convention  and  the  Emperor  Napoleon  neglected 
was  accomplished  by  the  law  of  1838  ;  by  degrees 
elementary  education  has  been  put  within  the  reach 
of  the  whole  people  of  France. 

Madame  Guizot  did  not  regret  her  husband's  re- 
tm-n  to  public  life.  She  already  felt  the  truth,  which 
he  afterwards  often  put  into  words :  '  I  like  power 
because  I  like  to  put  forth  my  strength.'  She  had 
no  wish  to  keep  the  combatant  out  of  the  arena.  She 
wrote  to  her  sister  on  the  twenty-second  of  October, 
1832:  — 

'  You  ask  what  I  think  of  the  change  in  our  posi- 
tion. I  think  a  great  many  things,  so  many  that  I 
can  tell  you  only  a  few  of  them.  I  know  that  public 
life  is  full  of  difficulties,  stonns  —  perhaps  even  of 
dangers — and  yet  I  am  very  glad  to  see  my  husband 
again  in  it.  One  day,  before  our  man-iage,  he  asked 
me  if  I  should  not  be  frightened  by  the  vicissitudes 
of  his  career;  I  can  still  see  the  brilliant  look  of 
delight  which  he  gave  me  when  I  answered  that  he 
might  feel  easy,  that  I  should  passionately  enjoy  his 
success,  and  not  waste  one  sigh  on  his  reverses. 
What  I  said  then  is  true  now,  dearest;  I  will  keep 
my  promise,  I  am  anxious,  I  am  miserable  at  the 
thought  of  the  difficulties,  the  annoyances,  the  strug- 
gles, and  the  perils  which  will  beset  his  path,  but  on 

10 


146  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

the  whole  my  faith  supports  me,  and  I  am  glad  be- 
cause he  is  pleased;  besides,  my  life  is  not  so  entirely 
disorganized  as  it  was  when  he  was  Minister  of  the 
Interior  —  I  see,  however,  much  less  of  him  than  I 
like.  He  breakfasts  and  dines  with  us,  sleeps  for  a 
reasonable  time,  and  is  in  good  health,  although  he 
works  hard.  Likewise  his  present  office  is  very 
agreeable  to  him,  he  is  glad  to  find  himself  once  more 
among  the  companions  and  the  occupations  of  his 
youth.  His  special  duties  take  his  mind  ofi"  general 
politics  ;  this  is  a  great  advantage.  And,  lastly,  dear 
sister,  if  God  will  only  leave  me  with  him  and  him 
with  me,  I  shall  always,  in  the  midst  of  every  possible 
anxiety  and  trial,  be  the  happiest  of  living  creatures.' 

God  seldom  bestows  perfect  happiness  upon  His 
creatures,  even  if  He  shows  it  to  us  for  an  instant. 
He  is  apt  speedily  to  withdraw  it  from  our  gaze. 
Madame  Guizot  had  the  joy  which  she  ardently  de- 
sired —  a  son  was  born  to  her  on  the  eleventh  of 
January,  1833.  On  the  twent}' -fourth  she  wrote  to 
her  sister,  who  was  expecting  a  second  child,  after 
having  lost  the  first :  — 

'  Only  one  thing  is  wanting  to  make  you  perfectly, 
entirely  happy,  it  is  to  have  a  son,  and  I  know  this 
from  my  own  experience.' 

She  was  lying  on  her  sofa,  still  weak,  but  going 
on  well,  full  of  talk  and  animation,  interested  in  all 
that  was  being  said  and  done,  when  M.  Royer-Collard 
came  to  see  her.  As  he  was  going  out  he  turned  to 
M.  Guizot  and  said,  '  Take  care  of  her,  look  after  her ; 


DEATH   OF   MADAME    6lISA  GUIiiOT.  147 

she  lias  one  of  those  heroic  natures  that  do  not  ap- 
prehend evil  until  they  are  conquered  by  it' 

The  sort  of  prophetic  instinct  which  sometimes 
enlig-htened  the  great  political  pliilosopher  had  not 
misled  him.  A  few  daj-s  later  it  was  said  that  Ma- 
dame Guizot  had  caught  cold,  and  was  obliged  to  re- 
turn to  her  bed ;  soon  the  fever  turned  to  delirium, 
painfully  repressed  in  her  husband's  presence.  '  Go 
away,  go  away  ! '  she  said ;  '  I  don't  like  you  to  hear 
me  talk  nonsense.'  Four  years  later,  when  on  the 
eve  of  seeing  his  son  pass  away  from  him,  as  his  wife 
had  passed  away,  M.  Guizot  was  again  not  allowed 
to  be  present  during  the  fits  of  delirium  which  at- 
tacked the  young  man  in  his  last  moments,  .until  the 
end  was  close  at  band.  Passionate  affection  and 
respect  survived  in  both  sufferers  when  all  other 
power  of  self-restraint  had  vanished. 

During  the  night  of  Monday,  March  eleventh, 
Madame  Elisa  Guizot  breathed  her  last.  She  had 
struggled  long,  for  she  was  young,  and  she  passion- 
ately desired  to  live.  Her  little  children  were  brought 
to  her  bedside,  her  eyes  were  already  dim,  though  full 
of  tenderness  —  for  a  long  time  the  remembrance 
friglitened  them.  To  the  last  moment  she  knew  her 
husband ;  her  hand  or  her  lips  still  replied  to  him ; 
even  when  the  terrible  veil  which  separates  the 
dying  from  all  that  they  have  most  loved  seemed  to 
have  fallen  upon  her.  '  I  shall  die  alone,' said  Pascal. 
She  never  felt  herself  alone,  not  even  in  dying. 

It  was  M.  Guizot  who  was  left  alone ;  on  the 
twenty-third  of  April  he  wrote  to  Madame  Decourt : 


148  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

'  No,  dear  sister,  you  will  never  write  to  her  again, 
never  see  her  again  —  at  table,  in  her  room  —  no- 
where !  She  is  no  longer  in  her  place.  Can  you 
believe  it  ?  Are  you  quite  sure  of  it  I  As  for  me, 
twenty  times,  a  hundred  times  a-day,  I  expect  her  to 
come  in ;  I  look  for  her  as  if  I  were  sure  to  find  her. 
Twenty  times,  a  hundi-ed  times  a-day  I  make  again 
the  hon'ible  discovery.  And  what  will  it  be  when  I 
shall  have  ceased  to  make  it,  when  these  illusory 
flashes  do  not  pass  tlnough  my  mind,  when  I  shall 
no  longer  hear  even  the  distant  echo  of  her  voice, 
when  I  shall  no  longer  try  to  grasp  her  shadow,  when 
the  truth,  the  terrible  truth  will  be  always  present ; 
immovable,  unsm-mountable  ?  I  cannot  tell  you  with 
what  pain,  what  apprehension  I  watch  time  as  it  passes 
and  carries  me  farther  away  from  her.  Every  day, 
every  hour,  adds  to  the  separation.  I  lose  every  day 
a  little  more  of  her.  Everything  around  me  is  still 
full  of  her ;  everything  still  attests  her  presence.  A 
fortnight  ago  her  dresses  were  still  in  the  wardi'obe 
which  touches  me ;  now  they  have  almost  all  been 
taken  away.  I  have  already  finished  all  the  paper 
she  touched,  the  pens  she  used.  Everything  disap- 
pears, everything  is  renewed  with  a  rapidity  which 
tears  my  heart  asunder.  Oh  !  if  I  could  only  make 
everything  permanent,  unchangeable,  if  I  could  stop, 
chain  down  my  whole  life  to  the  moment  when  she 
left  me  —  I  should  suffer  a  thousand  times  less.  Our 
lives  were  so  intimately  blended,  so  full  of  activity, 
we  thought,  felt,  said,  and  did  so  many  things  together, 
that  there  is  not  a  place  in  the  room,  not  an  article  of 


DEATH   OF   MADAME   £lISA    GUIZOT.  149 

furniture  before  my  eyes,  to  which  some  dear  and  en- 
chanting memory  is  not  attached.  This  is  my  hfe  at 
present,  and  I  contemphvte  with  hoiTor  the  possibihty 
that  I  may  lose  even  this  ;  that  time,  necessity,  new 
circumstances,  may  disperse  its  elements.  My  hap- 
piness is  gone,  destroyed ;  but  I  have  still  round  me 
its  relics,  its  ruins ;  my  house  has  become  a  desert, 
but  a  desert  wliich  has  been  a  paradise.  I  find  in  it, 
it  still  contains  the  traces  and  j^roofs  of  her  life.  May 
I  be  allowed  to  keep  all  these !  I  have  lost  every- 
thing, but,  at  least,  let  there  be  no  further  change,  I 
form  no  other  wish,  and  I  dare  not  flatter  myself 
that  this  one  will  be  granted. 

.'  I  find,  besides,  inexpressible  torture  in  the  false- 
ness of  the  external  every-day  life  to  which  I  have 
returned.  I  go  and  come,  I  look  on,  I  speak  and  I 
act  as  if  I  were  someone  else  ;  and  others  behave  to 
me  as  of  yore.  It  is  not  the  effort,  great  as  it  is, 
which  is  most  unbearable ;  what  I  detest,  the  thing 
which  tortures  me  beyond  expression  is,  I  repeat,  the 
falseness  —  my  own  falseness  every  instant  in  the 
day,  and  in  every  relation  of  life.  If  anything  could 
comfort  me,  it  Avould  be  to  show  that  my  love  for 
her  burns  with  a  more  brilliant  flame  than  ever;  I 
wish  to  talk  of  nothing  biit  her,  to  seem  occupied  with 
nothing  but  her  memory.  I  should  like  all  who  know 
me  to  see  that  my  heart  is  always  full  of  her,  and  of 
her  only ;  that  her  image  is  always  before  my  eyes, 
and  her  name  always  on  my  lips.  It  seems  wanting 
in  respect  to  her  to  be  different,  as  if  I  were  depriving 
her  of  something  wliich  is  her  due.     And  yet  I  must 


150  MOKSIEUR   GinzOT   IN    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

live,  it  is  my  duty  to  live  as  I  do ;  I  must  live  out 
my  life,  fulfil  my  destiny;  she  herself  wishes  it, 
insists  upon  it ;  whenever  I  am  tempted  to  abandon 
everything,  to  give  myself  up  to  my  real  feelings,  to 
show  always  and  everywhere  that  wliich  is  always 
hidden  in  my  heart,  I  hear  her  voice  —  her  dear  voice 
—  which  orders  me  to  rise,  to  go  on,  to  do  —  apart 
from  her,  yet  for  her  sake  —  the  things  which  made 
her  happy  and  proud  of  me  when  she  was  with  me. 
Let  God's  will  and  her  will  be  done  ! 

'  With  you  alone,  my  dear  sister,  I  am  able  to  let 
myself  go  ;  to  you  only  I  can  say  everything ;  no,  not 
everytliing  indeed,  not  the  best  part  of  what  I  feel,  but 
some  of  it,  at  any  rate.  Pray  write  to  me,  therefore ; 
I  shall  always  find  time  for  you.  Except  myself,  no 
one  knew  her  or  loved  her  as  you  did.  I  am  yom-s  for 
her  sake,  she  bequeathed  you  to  me,  you  and  all  you 
care  for ;  and  every  opportunity  I  can  have  of  caring 
and  acting  for  you,  as  she  would  have  cared  and 
acted,  will  be  a  balm  for  my  heart.  I  read  your 
letter  tlu-ee  or  four  times  over,  as  if  you  had  given  me 
back  some  portion  of  her.  Good-bye.  My  children 
are  well.  You  may  be  easy  about  Henriette  ;  I  will 
keep  your  recollection  alive  in  her  heart.' 

M.  Guizot's  children  were  one  day  to  have  the 
happiness  of  knowing  fully  the  place  they  occupied 
in  his  heart  and  life,  but  in  the  beffinnino'  of  his  sor- 
row,  and  while  they  were  little  childi-en,  they  did  not 
and  could  not  afford  him  much  consolation. 

'  I  live  now  only  on  the  surface,'  he  wrote  to 
Madame  Decourt  on  the  twentv-eighth  of  February, 


DEATH    OF    MADAME   ^LISA    GUIZOT.  151 

1834  ;  '  even  my  cliildi'en  do  not  penetrate  much  be- 
neath it.  Nevertheless,  I  love  them  tenderly,  for  their 
sakes  as  well  as  for  hers.  They  are  channing,  but  how 
they  miss  her — how  they  tcill  miss  her!  When  I  look 
at  Henriette,  who  is  so  bright  and  so  tender,  so  intel- 
ligent, so  good-tempered  and  at  the  same  time  so 
animated;  at  Pauline,  who  is  more  excitable  yet 
more  reserved,  sometimes  hesitating  to  speak  or  come 
forward,  but  blusliing  with  pleasm-e  when  I  go  to  her 
and  speak  to  her  ;  at  Guillaume,  who  is  beginning  to 
open  his  great  blue  eyes  in  his  endeavours  to  under- 
stand the  meaning  of  his  sisters'  gestures  and  words 
—  it  wrings  my  heart  to  think  of  all  these  little  minds 
which  are  so  busy  and  so  anxious  to  develop  then- 
powers.  Who  will  give  them,  as  she  would  have  done, 
the  attention  of  every  minute  I  who  will  talk  to  them, 
as  she  would  have  done,  all  the  long  day  f  Who  will 
direct  their  development  witli  that  tenderness  full  of 
authority,  that  noble  and  simple  intelligence,  that 
indefatigable  yet  calm  perseverance,  the  treasm'es  of 
wliich  she  would  have  la\'ished  upon  them !  They 
would  have  been  so  happy  with  her,  and  in  the  midst 
of  their  joyousness  she  would  have  prepared  them 
so  well  for  the  trials  of  life.  You  yourself  do  not 
know,  no  one  is  aware,  of  the  extent  to  which  her 
character  developed  and  became  nobler  day  by  day. 
I  saw  her,  with  raptiu-e,  rising  above^the  little  vanities, 
shaking  off  the  uncertainties  which  disturb  the  finest 
minds  in  early  youth — all  conceit,  all  petty  anxieties 
leaving  her ;  the  higher  her  position  became  the  more 
she  raised  herself  above  her  position ;  although,  as 


152  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

you  know,  enjoying  keenly  every  little  pleasure  and 
external  adornment  of  life,  she  became  more  and  more 
truly  devoted  to  its  serious  and  important  duties. 
Happiness  for  her  was  the  soui'ce  of  unselfishness,  it 
seemed  as  if,  having  herself  reached  the  goal,  she  was 
henceforth  detached  from  all  personal  desires,  and 
devoted  only  to  her  affections  and  her  duties.  And 
this  was  all  without  effort,  without  any  fixed  inten- 
tion, almost  unconsciously  —  the  result  simply  of 
the  development  of  her  noble  nature,  blossoming  as 
the  flowers,  and  ripening  as  the  fruit  in  the  hands  of 
God.  And  I  was  permitted  to  enjoy  this  lovely 
scene,  and  this  treasure  was  mine.' 

A  few  months  later  Madame  Decourt  joined  her 
sister  in  heaven,  leaving  behind  her  the  son  so 
ardently  desired  by  her  sister  and  herself. 

'You  must  not  expect  consolation  from  me,'  writes 
M.  Guizot,  to  liis  brother-in-law,  on  the  sixth  of  Feb- 
ruary, 1835  ;  '  my  fortitude  is  a  sad  fortitude.  It  is 
well  enough  abroad,  it  is  nothing  at  home.  But  if 
my  ardent,  my  intense  sjinpathy  can  be  of  any  mo- 
mentary comfort  to  you,  depend  upon  it  it  is  gi-eater 
than  you  can  form  any  idea  of.  My  wife  was  the 
only  person  to  whom  I  could  truly  unfold  the 
thoughts  that  are  hidden  in  my  heart ;  she  alone 
was  able  to  imderstand  even  half  of  what  I  feel.  I 
am  now  reduced  to  complete  silence. 

'It  is  now  twenty-seven  years  since  I  first  became 
acquainted  with  the  Meulan  family ;  it  contained  the 
rarest,  the  most  elevated  natm-es,  morally  and  intel- 
lectually, that  I  have  ever  known  ;  two  of  them  fell 
to  my  lot ;  I  owe  them  all  the  happiness  of  my  hfe, 


DEATH   OF   MADAME   ^LISA   GUIZOT.  153 

;ill  that  I  shall  take  pleasure  in  remembering  when  age 
shall  have  conquered  my  activity  and  I  am  confined 
within  the  circle  of  my  own  thoughts.  Only  twenty- 
seven  years !    and  during   that  time    I   have    seen 

■J  ~ 

mother,  daughters,  brothers,  grand-daughters  pass 
away — of  all  that  animated  and  distinguished  family, 
there  remain  only  one  deaf  brother,  my  childi-en, 
yom-  son,  and  the  poor,  ruined  Madame  de  Meulan, 
who  is  glad  to  live  under  my  roof 

Everything  belonging  to  the  Meulan  family  was 
alwa}-s  dear  to  M.  Guizot,  all  that  remained  of  it  was 
collected  round  him.  His  sister-in-law,  Madame  de 
Meulan  (Aline  de  Tm-pin-Crisse),  lived  with  him  for 
more  than  ten  years,  and  died  in  liis  house;  M.  de 
Vaines  and  his  son,  whom  he  received  under  his  roof 
after  the  marriage  of  Madame  Decourt,  left  him  only 
from  necessity,  and  remained  always  closely  united 
with  the  interests  and  affections  common  to  the 
family;  Madame  Decom*t's  son,  who  soon  became 
an  orphan,  found  in  M.  Guizot's  home  the  most 
affectionate  family  relations. 

My  fatlier's  life  was  destined  to  be  a  very  long 
and  busy  one;  great  consolations  and  deeply-felt 
joys  were  yet  in  store  for  him,  but  he  never  forgot 
one  of  the  gifts  which  God  had  first  bestowed  and 
then  taken  away  from  him — his  memory  was  always 
faithful  to  them. 

On  the  twentieth  of  April  he  wrote  to  Madame  de 
Broglie,  one  of  the  few  wlio  were  allowed  sometimes 
to  penetrate  into  the  sanctuary  of  his  grief. 

'  If  you  were  here  I  should  call  on  you  this  morn- 
ing, but  you  are  not  here.    Nothing  remains,  nothing 


154  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN    PRIVATE   LIFE. 

is  here  always,  neither  our  great  nor  our  httle  pleas- 
lu-es — on,  on,  without  stopping — this  is  the  radical 
and  incurable  evil  in  this  world.  I  cannot  reproach 
myself  with  having  forgotten  it  when  I  was  happy, 
it  was  the  only  thing  that  distm-bed  my  happiness — 
the  thought  was  always  recumng  to  me.  I  literally 
felt  each  day  pass,  and  the  earth  go  round  under  my 
feet.  Those  happy  days  fled,  and  the  earth  spun 
round  faster  even  than  I  thought.  God  cannot,  I  am 
sure,  accuse  me  of  ingratitude,  I  did  not  undervalue 
for  a  single  instant  the  extent  of  His  bounty  ;  I  felt 
that  it  was  beyond,  I  will  not  say  my  deserts,  but 
even  my  powers  of  enjoyment ;  all  that  one  hears.or 
reads  of  the  insufficiency  of  the  greatest  human  joys, 
and  of  the  rapidity  with  which  the  mind  comes  to  an 
end  of  them,  has  always  seemed  to  me  to  be  felse  and 
impious.  I  found  my  happiness  immense,  inexhausti- 
ble ;  but  at  the  moment  when  I  enjoyed  it  most 
intensely  I  always  felt  that  I  did  not  fully  enter  into 
all  that  was  given  to  me;  my  satisfaction,  my  grati- 
tude were  unbounded,  and  yet  it  always  seemed  to 
me  as  if  a  part  of  the  heavenly  gift  fell  to  earth,  and 
was  lost  before  it  was  able  to  reach  me  ;  and  in  the 
midst  of  the  purest  joys  I  always  felt  and  regretted 
that  there  were  joys  beyond,  still  more  delightful, 
that  I  could  dimly  see,  but  that  I  was  unable  to  grasp. 
Tell  me,  is  not  this  what  is  meant  by  infinity  —  in- 
finite happiness,  infinite  love  ?  This  alone  satisfies, 
and  at  the  same  time  lies  beyond  us ;  this  alone  is 
enough  for  us,  and  we  are  not  enough  for  it.  When 
shall  we  attain  that  state  in  wliich  we  shall  still  feel 
that  our  happiness  is  greater  than  we  oiu'selves  are 


DEATH    OF    MADAME   ^LISA    GU12J0T.  155 

wliile  we  shall  not  fear  to  lose  it,  and  in  which  we  shall 
have  eternity  before  us  to  enjoy,  without  ever  exliaust- 
ing  it?  There,  into  that  future,  we  must  learn  to  trans- 
port ourselves  and  to  live,  even  in  the  present;  but  tlie 
heart  is  weak,  and  the  most  steadfast  hope  does  not 
make  up  for  actual  possession.  It  is  thus  that  God  has 
made  us  and  has  willed  us,  we  must  accept  ourselves 
as  He  has  made  us,  ourselves  and  our  destiny  alike 
in  their  imjjerfection.  I  always  come  round  to  this 
state  of  absolute  and  blind  submission,  and  in  it  alone 
can  I  find  rest. 

'  My  childi-en  have  returned  from  Dieppe ;  they 
are  flom-ishing ;  the  sea-baths  and  douches  have 
strengthened  my  little  Pauline  beyond  my  expecta- 
tions. Guillaume  is  very  \Aell,  he  is  always  the  same 
sweet  and  gentle  little  creature,  without  the  least  idea 
of  all  tliat  his  pure  blue  eyes  say  to  me.  Hemiette 
is  more  lively  and  good-tempered  than  ever. 

'  A  little  Avhile  ago  I  came  one  evening,  upon  this 
fragment,  very  extraordinary  in  such  a  place,  from 
an  Elegy,  by  Propertius :  — 

'  "  And  now  I  bequeath  to  you  the  pledges  of  our 
imion  —  om-  children.  The  thought  of  them  lives, 
and  will  always  live,  under  my  ashes.  Father,  take 
on  yourself  the  part  of  a  mother ;  it  is  romid  }'our 
neck  that  all  my  beloved  ones  Avill  in  futm-e  cling. 
When  you  kiss  away  their  tears,  give  them  some 
kisses  from  their  mother.  Tlie  Avhole  care  of  the 
house  will  fall  upon  you.  If,  Avhen  you  are  away 
from  them,  you  yield  to  grief,  dry  your  eyes,  and 
hide  jowv  sorrow  when  you .  embrace  them.     Let  it 


156  MOXSIEUR   GUIZOT   IX   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

be  enough  for  you  to  dedicate  tlie  niglits  to  my 
memory,  and  to  see  me  continually  returning-  to  you 
in  your  di-eams ;  and  if,  in  the  privacy  of  solitude, 
you  speak  to  my  image,  speak  to  me  always  as  if  I 
were  present,  and  ready  to  respond." ' 

M.  Guizot  wrote  to  Madame  de  Broglie  on  the 
seventeenth  of  November,  the  anniversary  of  the 
death  of  her  brother,  M  Auguste  de  Stael,  who  had 
been  taken  away  from  his  family  in  1827,  after  ten 
months  of  mamed  life,  and  just  before  the  birth  of  a 
son,  who  survived  him  for  only  two  years :  — 

'  Dear  Friend,  —  Is  not  this  the  day  when  our 
poor  Auguste  left  us  ?  I  shall  turn  into  another  Old 
IlortaVdij.  My  heart  is  with  the  dead.  I  like  to 
verify  dates  and  places,  to  scratch  off  the  moss,  to 
raise  the  headstones,  to  take  off  my  hat  as  I  pass  by. 
And  not  only  for  those  whom  I  loved  as  I  loved 
Auguste,  but  for  all  whom  I  have  known  tolerably 
well.  They,  too,  have  reached  the  other  shore  ;  they 
are  with  the  loved  ones  who  have  carried  thither  my 
soul.  I  am  exhausted  by  my  efforts  to  bring  it  back 
again  to  employ  it  in  the  work  Ave  have  to  do  on 
earth.  As  long  as  the  actual  labour  lasts,  I  can  do 
it ;  but  as  soon  as  the  plough  stops,  my  mind,  my 
heart  —  my  whole  being,  escapes  to  another  world. 

'  I  am  convinced  that  God  has  done  wisely  in 
leaving  so  many  clouds  between  the  two  shores ;  if 
the  distance  were  perfectly  clear,  and  we  could  see 
right  before  us  in  their  own  image,  full  of  life  and 
beauty,  those  of  whom  even  the  bare  idea  pales  and 


DEATH    OF   MADAME   l^LISA    GUIZOT.  157 

extinguislies  everything  else,  it  "would  be  impossiljle 
to  live  and  to  wait;  we  should  iiish  after  them. 
During  my  happiness  I  did  not  lose  —  far  from  it  — 
the  sense  of  the  imperfection  of  all  human  tilings ; 
twenty  times  a-day  I  felt  that  the  world  was  false, 
di-y,  cold,  coarse,  inferior ;  but  I  trnmed  away  from 
it ;  I  looked  at  my  side.  ...  0,  yes  !  it  is  cer- 
tain that  then  every  feeling  of  imperfection,  of  want, 
of  deception,  vanished ;  my  mind  was  filled  with  per- 
fect satisfaction.  And  yet  I  am  sure,  quite  sure,  that 
there  was  no  idolatry  in  this ;  not  only  we  had  our 
faults,  our  littlenesses,  but  we  were  aware  of  them, 
we  talked  of  them,  we  told  each  other  of  them,  and 
humbled  ourselves  together,  or  in  turn.  But  our 
happiness  was  not  disturbed  by  them,  not  in  the 
least;  we  endured,  we  accepted,  and  we  fought 
against  the  infimiities  of  our  state  and  nature ;  in 
the  midst  of  these  e\dls  and  struggles  we  were  each 
a  certain  support  and  rest  to  the  other ;  we  felt  from 
the  bottom  of  our  hearts  that  our  relation  to  each 
other  was  entirely  in  harmony  with  the  will  and  the 
goodness  of  God.  And  our  failings  were  no  more 
hurtful  to  our  happiness  than  to  our  gratitude. 

'  I  was  not  going  to  talk  to  you  of  myself,  and 
now  I  can  speak  of  nothing  else.  However,  it  is  of 
little  conseqvience  ;  to  sympathise  with  you,  and  your 
sister,  and  with  all  who  live  and  weep,  I  need  not  go 
out  of  myself  Pray  for  me  ;  ask  that  I  may  have 
strength ;  no  one  knows  how  many  times  a-day  it 
fails  me,  and  I  fear  that  it  will  go  on  foiling  me  more 
and  more.' 


CHAPTER  XII. 
1833-37. 

VAL-RICHER DEATH    OF   FRANCOIS   GUIZOT. 

Life  resumed  once  more  its  usual  course  round  M. 
Guizot.  The  desolate  hearth  was  not  deserted. 
Always  ready  for  the  most  complete  and  absolute 
devotion  —  especially  when  it  implied  action,  and 
gave  her  the  ruling  place  in  the  government  —  M. 
Guizot's  mother  once  more  stood  by  him,  and,  at  the 
age  of  sixty-nine,  accepted  courageously  the  task  of 
educating  and  bringing  up  three  childi'en,  the  eldest 
of  whom  was  not  four  years  of  age,  while  the 
youngest  was  only  two  months  old.  When  their 
mother  felt  the  hand  of  death  upon  her,  she  recom- 
mended her  children,  in  the  intervals  of  delirium,  to 
the  care  of  her  mother-in-law,  with  full  and  touching 
confidence.  In  spite  of  the  differences  of  birth  and  edu- 
cation, the  two  minds,  both  of  them  eminently  noble 
and  disinterested,  discovered  that  they  thoroughly 
understood  each  other.  One  of  31.  Guizot's  greatest 
pleasures,  after  his  second  marriage,  was  in  seeing 
how  happy  his  mother  was  made  by  his  wife's  tender- 


M.  GUIZOT,    AGED    FORTY-FIVE   TEAR!!. 


VAL-RICHER.  159 

ness.     The  grandmotlier  was  destined  to  repay  more 
even  than  she  had  received. 

The  elder  son  was  growing  into  manhood,  more 
lovable,  and  more  beloved  by  them  all  every  day. 
He  was  especially  dear  to  M.  Jean-Jacqiies  Guizot 
and  his  wife,  Madame  Amelie  Vincent,  who  had  no 
children,  and  treated  then  nepheAv  as  if  he  had  been 
their  son.     They  both  preceded  him  to  the  grave. 

All  did  their  best  to  console  the  gi'ief  wliich  defied 
consolation,  and  to  fill  up  the  void  caused  by  the  loss 
of  their  mother  in  the  lives  of  the  little  childi'en. 
The  filial  affection  which  for  a  long  time  had  united 
Mademoiselle  Rosine  de  Chabaud  Latour  to  Madame 
Guizot,  now  spent  itself  upon  the  grandchikben.  The 
tender  kindness  and  more  important  ser\'ices,  which, 
from  that  day  forth,  she  lavished  on  them,  left  a 
deep  impression  of  never-ending  gratitude  on  their 
hearts  and  lives :  in  the  somewhat  austere  atmos- 
phere  produced  by  death  and  soitow,  they  owed 
almost  all  their  pleasures  to  theu'  grandmother's 
friend.  Madame  Guizot's  incomparable  devotion 
seldom  condescended  to  fondness,  nor  did  she  make 
any  allowance  for  weakness.  Young  as  they  were, 
however,  the  children  never  doubted  her  love  or  her 
devotion. 

The  calm  seiiousness  of  family  life  was  the  only 
thing  which  at  that  tune  could  afford  any  repose  to 
]\I.  Guizot.  Ai'dently  engaged  in  political  contests, 
obliged  at  the  same  time  to  answer  every  question 
relating  to  his  own  department  and  to  support  the 
Government  in  general,  he  sought  and  found  no 


160  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

Other  consolation.  He  sometimes  caccompanied  M. 
and  Madame  de  Broglie  into  Nomiandy  for  a  few 
days,  as  lie  was  siu-e  of  finding  in  tlieir  house  the 
familiar  intercourse  and  the  liberty  he  needed. 

In  1834  he  took  his  son  with  him. 

'  We  reached  oiu-  haven  quite  safely,  dear  mamma,' 
he  wrote ;  '  the  night  was  very  fresh,  and  has  given 
me  a  little  cold  in  my  head,  notliing  worse.  I  have 
already  been  walking  for  several  hours,  and  I  shall 
begin  again  to-morrow;  there  are  a  great  many 
jilaces  I  want  to  see  again  ;  I  am  sorry  that  I  cannot 
spend  more  time  here ;  I  should  find  nothing  but 
memories ;  however,  they  are  all  I  have  left  in  life. 
To  tell  the  truth,  when  I  was  obliged  to  leave  my 
dear  little  children,  if  I  had  followed  my  inclination, 
I  should  have  given  up  this  journey  and  have  stayed 
with  them  and  with  you.  Nevertheless,  if  I  were 
capable  of  enjoying  anything  I  should  enjoy  the  quiet 
and  liberty  that  I  have  here.  But  what  use  can  I 
make  of  leisiu-e  and  freedom  ?  They  are  but  empty 
vases,  one  ought  to  have  some  happiness  to  put  into 
them.     Work  is  the  only  thing  that  suits  me»now. 

'  Here  are  two  lines  for  Henriette,  give  a  kiss  to 
Paviline,  and  tell  her  that  I  would  wi-ite  to  her  also  if 
she  knew  how  to  read.  I  cannot  think  how  I  could 
quit  those  poor  cliildi-en,  but  I  left  them  in  yom- 
hands,  you  are  and  will  be  everything  that  is  possible 
to  them.  What  plans  she  used  to  make,  here  in  this 
very  place,  for  Guillaume  !  And  the  activity  of 
her  imagination  never  afi'ected  the  calmness  of  her 
judgment. 


VAL-mCHER.  161 

The  political  struggle  became  every  day  more 
violent ;  some  symptoms  of  internal  dismiion  began 
to  appear  in  the  Cabinet,  and  the  anger  of  the  Oppo- 
sition fell  especially  upon  M.  Guizot.  His  son,  who 
was  travelling  in  Switzerland,  heard  the  rumours 
with  astonishment  and  indignation  ;  his  father  Avrote 
to  him  in  August,  1835  :  — 

'  Keep  your  sacx'ed  wrath,  my  dear  child,  for  more 
serious  occasions  and  more  worthy  adversaries  It 
strikes  me  as  very  natural,  and  I  love  you  all  the 
better  for  it,  but  I  should  be  grieved  if  I  saw  you 
wear  out  yoiu*  energy  in  resenting  and  answering 
such  nonsense.  Whoever  is  able  to  do  a  little  good 
in  this  world  must  expect  to  incur  a  great  deal  of 
hatred  and  give  rise  to  a  great  many  falsehoods  We 
must  resign  om'selves  —  not  only  I,  to  whom  resig- 
nation is  very  easy,  but  all  those  who  love  me  That 
you  should  not  allow  things  to  pass  which  knowingly 
and  willingly  shock  recognised  moi'al  propiieties  is 
perfectly  natural ;  but  I  beg  of  you  never  to  go  be- 
yond —  or  even  to  meet  —  what  is  necessary ;  and, 
above  -nW,  do  not  be  in  the  least  annoyed.  In  spite 
of  the  thousand  insulting  and  absmxl  things  which 
are  said  of  me,  I  really  consider  myself  as  one  of  the 
least  calumniated  of  the  men  who  have  earned  some 
reputation  in  the  world. 

'  You  will   find,  I  hope,  all   the  family  in  good 

case,  and  as  delighted  to  see  you  again  as  you  will  be 

to  come  back.     Your  grandmother  is  a  little  unwell 

to-day,  but  it  is  a  mere  trifle.     The  baths  have  done 

wonders  for  Hem-iette  and  Pauline     We  shall  make 

u 


162  MONSIEUR    GUIZOT    IX   PRIVATE   LIFK. 

you  rest  yourself  here,  for  I  wish  you  to  be  strong 
and  full  of  energy  when  you  begin  your  new  studies. 
I  hope  that  they  will  interest  you,  and  that  the  com- 
bination of  the  studies  jnu-sued  in  the  Normal  School 
with  those  in  tiie  School  of  Law  will  be  a  relaxation 
after  mathematics  ;  and  as  the  session  does  not  open 
until  the  month  of  January,  we  shall  have  leisure  — 
which  I  often  have  not  —  for  a  little  conversation.' 

The  question  of  the  conversion  of  the  funds, 
brought  forward  rather  indiscreetly  by  the  Mlnistre 
(Ics  Finances,  M.  Humann,  decided  the  fall  of  the 
Ministry.  On  the  twenty-second  of  February,  1836, 
M.  Thiers  constructed  another  Cabinet ;  MM.  de 
Broglie,  Guizot,  and  Duchatel,  were  left  out  of  it. 
As  soon  as  the  session  was  over  Madame  Guizot 
took  her  grandchildren  to  Broglie.  The  new 
Cabinet  was  already  tottering,  but  M.  Guizot  was 
resolved  not  to  precipitate  its  fall,  he  had  no  incli- 
nation at  that  time  to  re-enter  public  life,  and  did 
not  think  the  moment  opportune. 

In  the  month  of  August  he  went  to  visit  his 
fi-iends  in  the  electoral  district  of  Lisieux,  Avhicli  was 
now  separated  from  that  of  Pont-l'Eveqiie  ;  at  the 
same  time  he  looked  about  in  the  neighbourhood  to 
find  a  nest  for  his  old  age,  which  might,  in  the 
meanwhile,  be  a  shelter  and  head-quarters  for  the 
whole  family. 

On  the  tenth  he  wrote  the  following  letter  to  his 
elder  daughter,  who  was  then  seven  years  old :  — 

'  I  am  writing  to  you  to-day,  my  dear  little  girl, 
as  a  precaution,  because  I  am  going  to-morrow,  as 


VAL-RICHER.  163 

soon  as  I  am  up,  to  look  at  a  little  estate  about  three 
leagues  from  Lisieux,  which  is  offered  for  jiurchase. 
Perhaps  I  shall  not  be  back  by  post  time,  and  I  want 
you  not  to  miss  my  letter.  I  hear  that  it  is  in  a 
pretty  country,  the  house  is  an  ancient  abbey,  large, 
well  built,  and  in  tolerable  order.  There  are  fine 
woods  all  round,  a  spring  close  to  the  house,  and 
a  rapid  stream  running  through  the  fields.  Un- 
fortunately, one  has  to  travel  over  a  league  of  bad 
road  in  order  to  get  there  ;  however,  the  estate  is 
much  cheaper  than  if  it  were  close  to  the  highroad. 
I  am  also  told  that  a  good  road  leading  to  the  door 
will  some  day  be  made.  At  any  rate  I  will  go  and 
see  it.  I  should  be  so  glad,  dear  Henriette,  if  I 
could  take  you  and  yom*  sister  with  me  to-moiTOw, 
the  diive  would  amuse  instead  of  boring  me.  This 
little  estate  is  called  Val-Richer. 

'  I  have  just  come  from  a  dinner  of  twenty-two 
people ;  this  morning  I  was  at  a  breakfast  of  sixteen 
There  is  no  grand  breakfast  to-morrow,  but,  to  make 
up  for  it,  I  have  to  attend  the  distribution  of  prizes 
at  the  college.  To-night,  after  dinner,  I  played  at 
tric-trac  and  won  everything,  but  I  had  much  rather 
have  lost  at  dominoes  with  you.  Now  I  am  going 
to  bed.  I  hear  from  my  bed  the  noise  of  the  nver 
(the  Touques),  which  almost  encircles  this  house  ; 
for  you  must  know  that  I  am  living  in  a  peninsula. 
The  Touques  is  much  bigger  than  the  Charentonne, 
and  it  tm-ns  a  great  many  mills  and  factories  of  all 
kinds. 

'  This  morning  I  walked  in  a  beautiful  garden, 


164  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

called  the  Jar  din  de  VJ^toile.  It  is  not  nearly  as  large 
as  the  park  at  Broglie,  but  there  are  magnificent  trees 
in  it,  among  ethers  some  poj^lars  two  or  thi-ee  times 
as  big  as  the  great  beeches  at  Broglie.  It  would 
require  a  great  many  —  a  very  great  many  —  arms 
as  long  as  youi's  and  Pauline's  to  reach  round  them. 

'  Good-bye,  my  dear  good  little  girl,  hearty  kisses 
for  you  and  your  sister  and  little  dumpling.  To- 
morrow I  intend  to  write  to  Pauline  ;  tell  her  so  from 
me  ;  mind  you  work  hard  and  play  a  great  deal  dur- 
ing my  absence.  I  expect  to  see  you  on  the  eigh- 
teenth, that  is  to  say,  next  Thursday  at  the  latest. 
Kiss  dear  grandmamma  for  me.  I  do  not  ask  you  to 
love  me  better  than  you  do  already,  I  know  it  would 
be  impossible.  Good-bye  again,  I  cannot  bear  to 
leave  you. 

'  Do  you  attend  well  to  your  lessons  of  arithmetic 
and  Eno-lish  with  Madame  de  Broglie  and  Mademoi- 
selle  de  Pomeret  ?  I  shall  believe  whatever  you  tell 
me  about  this.' 

On  the  next  day  M.  Guizot  wrote  to  his  son 
Francois,  who  had  remained  in  Paris  with  his  aunt, 
Madame  de  Meulan  :  'You  will  have  had  news  of  me 
this  morning,  and  understood  Avliy  I  was  not  able  to 
write  to  you  before.  I  lead  a  life  of  dissipation  ;  I 
expect  to  return  to  Broglie  on  the  eighteenth.  Do 
not  scold  me  for  not  writing  to  you  oftener  and  more 
at  length  ;  I  assvire  you  that  I  do  my  best.  This 
morning  I  presided  for  two  hom-s  over  the  distribu- 
tion of  prizes  at  the  College.  They  hoped  for  a  few 
sentences  from  me,  but  I  kept  an  obstinate  silence 


VAL-EICHER.  165 

—  it  would  have  been  ridiculous  to  make  an  educa- 
tional speech  at  Lisieux,  which  would  certainly  have 
opposed  the  one  M.  Pelet  is  just  about  to  deliver  in 
Paris  — but  I  could  not  refuse  to  bestow  the  garlands 
on  the  winners.  I  am  going  into  the  country  to- 
morrow. 

*  I  admire  your  labours  and  yoiu*  aunt  Aline's 
inventions  for  the  library,  and  I  am  much  obliged  to 
you.  I  see  from  hence  that  both  the  shelves  and 
the  catalogue  will  be  wonderful.  Some  day  I  will 
write  to  your  aunt  on  the  subject.  I  am  very  glad 
that  she  is  with  you. 

'  You  will  be  quite  right  to  take  j^our  proposed 
excursions ;  only  wait  two  or  three  days  before  you 
set  off  for  Rouen.  It  is  possible  that  I  may  ask  you 
to  come  to  Calvados  instead,  and  look  at  a  little  estate 
which  seems  to  me  to  unite  a  great  many  advantages, 
and  I  think  that  you  would  like  this  plan  quite  as 
well.  I  will  write  to  you  definitely  before  I  leave. 
In  the  meanwhile  I  entreat  Aline  to  continue  writing 
long  and  frequent  letters ;  I  delight  in  knowing 
every  trifle.  Letters  are  very  iinsatisfactory,  and 
yet  at  the  moment  we  I'eceive  them  they  give  us  a 
keen  sensation  of  pleasure. 

'  You  are  one-and-twent}*  to-day.  This  day  one- 
and-twenty  years  ago  I  was  very  happy.  How  many 
events  have  taken  place  since  that  time  in  my  life, 
and  how  many  more  in  my  heart !  But  as  regards 
you,  my  child,  my  happiness  to-day  in  no  way  dif- 
fers from  the  joy  I  felt  one-and-twenty  years  ago. 
On  the  contrary,   it  bears  it   out  and  justifies  it. 


166  MOXSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

I  thank  you  in  my  own  name  and  in  your  motlier's. 
Good-bye,  my  child.  I  love  you  from  the  bottom 
of  my  heart ! ' 

Val-Richer  was  bought,  by  common  consent,  and 
it  became  at  once  the  object  of  intense  and  general 
interest  to  the  whole  family.  M.  Guizot  confided  its 
arrangement  especially  to  his  son.  Madame  Guizot 
and  her  grandchildren  were  to  visit  it  on  their  way 
from  Broglie  to  Paris. 

For  the  first  time,  M.  Guizot  and  his  family  set 
up  their  head-quarters  at  a  distance  from  town  : 
they  had  hitherto  lived  but  very  little  in  the  country. 
To  him,  as  well  as  to  all  of  them,  it  proved  the 
som'ce  of  ever-new  pleasures,  of  which  he  never 
tired,  even  in  his  old  age. 

In  Paris  the  political  situation  became  every  day 
more  critical,  and  it  was  his  son's  duty  to  give  M. 
Guizot  the  news  and  information  requisite  for  the 
direction  of  his  com-se  of  action. 

'  You  are  both  quite  wrong  in  scolding  me,'  he 
writes  from  Broglie,  on  the  twenty -first  of  August. 
'  You  must  have  seen  that  I  did  not  write  to  you  on 
Thursday,  or  rather  that  I  did  not  send  off'  my  letter, 
because  I  wished  to  talk  to  M.  de  Broglie,  who  did 
not  arrive  until  very  late  in  the  evening.  In  a 
situation  like  the  present,  I  cannot  bear  talking 
ignorantly  and  at  random.  Do  not  be  afraid,  my 
dear  child,  you  shall  never  be  without  letters ;  our 
.separation'  is  too  displeasing  for  me  not  to  fill  up 
the  void  as  well  as  I  can.  You  have  heard  of  my 
aiTangements  for  enabling  you  to  come  sooner  to 


VAL-RICHER.  167 

Val-Richer.  I  will  tell  you  as  soon  as  I  receive  an 
answer  from  Lisieux,  but  just  now  it  seems  to  me  to 
be  impossible  for  you  to  leave  Paris,  for  I  must  have 
some  one  there  who  can  speak  for  me,  and  I  am  aa 
glad  not  to  be  there  myself  as  I  am  pleased  that 
you  should  be  there  to  talk  to  all  the  people  who 
have  something  to  say  or  to  ask.  I  hope  that  this 
ursrent  crisis  will  either  calm  down  or  resolve  itself. 
*  It  never  entered  my  head,  should  I  be  called  on 
to  form  a  ministry,  to  insist  on  its  being  composed 
of  men  of  exactly  my  opinions.  I  consider  jiolitical 
fidelity  to  be  one  of  the  first  necessities  of  parlia- 
mentary government,  and  I  will  never  betray  it.  I 
also  hold  that,  when  you  have  obtained  strength  by 
the  support  of  certain  people,  they  ought,  in  turn, 
to  derive  some  advantage  from  their  alliance  with 
you.  But  I  can  appreciate  the  difference  of  circum- 
stances, and  what  they  will  or  will  not  allow  with 
regard  to  new  combinations.  I  am  also  aware  of  the 
inconveniences  of  an  exclusive  spirit  —  a  spirit  of 
coterie :  more  than  any  one,  I  am  its  enemy ;  it  is 
quite  opposed  to  the  spirit  of  good  government. 
Instead  of  resti-icting  myself — confining  myself 
within  a  narrow  circle  —  I  shall  always  try  to  ex- 
pand, to  bring  together  all  sorts  of  shades  and  dif- 
ferences ;  in  short,  I  shall  always  be  ready  to  accept 
every  useful  and  honourable  alliance.  If  I  am  sent 
for,  it  will  be  because  I,  and  the  strength  which  I 
can  rally  under  me,  are  wanted  ;  I  shall  not  separate 
mj^self  from  my  adherents,  I  shall  not  allow  them  to 
disperse :    but  I,  in  my  turn,  shall  need  strength, 


168  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

and  I  shall  collect  all  that  I  can  find  at  my  disposal. 
I  am  not  hampered  in  any  way  —  I  have  made  no 
engagements  —  I  am  perfectly  free,  and  prepared  to 
be  as  conciliatory  as  the  situation  will  admit.  Only 
I  am  determined  not  to  venture  rashly,  and  without 
gathering  together  every  possible  element  of  success, 
into  the  midst  of  a  struggle  which  will  soon  be  very 
violent,  very  arduous,  and  in  which  the  whole  respon- 
sibility will  devolve  upon  me.  Vanity  apart,  I  am 
convinced  that,  whatever  the  new  combination  may 
be,  if  there  be  one  at  all,  and  I  be  in  it,  I  shall  have 
to  be  responsible,  and  to  bear  the  weight  of  it  more 
than  any  one  else.  In  the  interest  of  the  king  and 
the  country,  as  well  as  in  my  own,  I  ought  not, 
therefore,  to  weaken  myself  beforehand,  and  I  shall 
not  do  so.  For  the  rest,  I  entirely  agree  with  you ; 
I  shall  await  tlie  issue  of  events  here.  It  must  be  a 
strange  madness  which  would  impel  any  one  to 
attack  me  while  I  do  nothing  and  say  nothing. 

'  Tliank  M.  Mallar  for  the  frequency  of  his  letters, 
and  for  the  insight  they  evince.  He  imderstands 
why  I  do  not  answer  them.  I  will  write  to  him, 
however,  to-morrow,  or  on  the  day  after.  I  wish, 
too,  that  you  could  read  every  day,  or  learn  through 
M  Mallar  the  contents  of  the  Temps,  Coitrrier,  Con- 
stitutionnel,  National,  Impartial,  and  even  of  the  Jour- 
nal du  Commerce  :  none  of  these  newspapers  are  taken 
in  here,  and  I  wish  to  know  a  little  of  what  they  are 
saying.  Good-bye,  dear  Franqois.  Is  there  any 
news  of  M.  Piscatory  1  of  M.  Duchatel  1  of  M.  de 
R6musat  1 ' 


VAL-RICHER.  169 

So  far  from  abating,  the  crisis  became  more  and 
more  serious,  and  M.  Guizot  was  soon  recalled  to 
Paris.  M.  Thiers  was  determined  to  suj^port  the 
intervention  of  France  for  the  suppression  of  civil 
war  in  Spain.  Tlie  king,  Louis-Philippe,  was 
equally  determined  never  to  give  his  consent.  On 
the  sixth  September  the  cabinet  resigned,  and  a  new 
ministry  was  formed  by  M.  Mole,  with  whom  M. 
Guizot  had  recently  been  drawn  into  a  closer  inti- 
macy than  in  former  days.  The  Due  de  Broglie 
was  not  in  the  cabinet :  it  was  the  first  time  that 
M.  Guizot  had  taken  office  without  the  most  intimate 
of  his  friends,  and  it  was  a  bitter  disappointment  to 
him.  He  pressed  the  nomination  of  M.  Gasparin  to 
the  Home  Office,  and  of  M.  Duchatel  to  the  Ex- 
chequer ;  M.  de  Renuisat  was  appointed  under-sec- 
retary  of  state  at  the  Home  Office.  For  himself, 
M.  Guizot  chose  to  resume  the  portfolio  of  Public 
Instruction,  and  to  continue  the  work  he  had  begun. 

It  was,  perhaps,  rather  too  soon  to  resume  the 
helm  of  government,  the  new  combinations  might 
lead  to  great  difficulties,  and  my  father  and  his 
family  were  very  anxious. 

Although  very  young,  Francois  Guizot  possessed 
fine  tact  and  upright  judgment,  and  took  an  active 
but  unobtrusive  part  in  politics.  He  had  kept  his 
father  informed  as  to  all  that  was  eroing-  on  during  his 
absence,  and  he  now  performed  the  same  office  for 
his  grandmother,  who  remained  Avith  the  children  at 
Broglie. 

On  the  eleventh  September  he  wrote :  — 


170  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

'  My  dear  Grandmother,  —  You  are  riffht  in 
thinking  that  for  my  own  sake  I  am  not  charmed 
with  your  resolution  to  spend  another  fortnight  at 
Broghe,  but  I  quite  appreciate  the  reasons  which 
keep  you  there.  I  think  them  very  wise,  and  your 
decision  all  the  more  meritorious  that  I  do  not  doubt 
your  wish  to  return  to  Paris.  Aunt  Aline  and  I  will 
wait,  therefore,  for  another  fortnight  before  we  go  to 
fetch  you,  and  take  you  to  Val-Richer ;  and  then 
we  will  all  return  together  to  this  house,  which  has 
during  the  interregnum  felt  M.  Pelet's  *  influence. 
If  we  had  waited  another  six  months,  we  should  have 
found  it  entirely  repainted  from  top  to  bottom,  the 
furniture  renewed,  and  the  garden  filled  with  rare 
flowers.  Unfortunately  we  have  taken  it  by  surprise 
in  the  midst  of  the  improvements,  and  the  work  is 
only  half  done.  My  father's  room  is  entirely  new,  at 
least  as  far  as  the  paper  is  concerned.  The  childi-en's 
has  been  repainted,  and  has  a  new  looking-glass  in- 
stead of  the  cracked  one  in  which  Rose  and  Jeannette 
used  to  look  at  themselves  in  turns,  with  their  faces 
cut  in  half  by  the  crack.  But  the  masterpiece  is  my 
room.  As  I  have  inherited  it  from  Madame  Pelet — 
the  person  of  taste  in  the  house  —  my  love  for  beauty 
is  entirely  satisfied  by  its  arrangements,  and  it  is  full 
of  little  refinements  which  a  barbarian  like  me  would 
never  have  thought  of,  and  which  were  no  doubt 
delicate  attentions  of  the  late  minister  to  his  wife. 
I  ought  to  add,  that  not  only  do  I  owe  gratitude  to 


*  The  Minister  of  Public  Instruction  who  followed  M.  Guizot. 


VAL-RICHER,  171 

Madame  Pelet  for  the  aiTangements  of  my  room,  but 
that  she  has  left  in  this  house,  and  among  the  ser- 
vants, a  great  reputation  for  kindness,  gentleness, 
and  good  temper. 

'  As   to  politics,   as  far  as  we  can  judge  in  the 
absence  of  the  Chambers  and  in  the  general  empti- 
ness of  Paris,  the  Ministry  has  produced  a  good  im- 
pression, and  this  impression  grows  stronger  every 
day.    The  choice  of  M.  Delessert  as  Prefect  of  Police, 
followed  by  his  acceptance  of  office,  which  M.  Thiers 
had  never  been  able  to  obtain,  was  both  skilful  and 
fortunate  :  lie  unites  the  precise  qualities  which  please 
the  Parisians  and  the  National  Guard ;  he  is  known 
to  be  an  honest,  and  at  the  same  time  a  brave  and 
sensible  man,  whose  intrepidity  on  several  occasions 
has  gained  the  hearts  of  the  young  and  ardent  portion 
of  the  population.     His  personal  integrity,  joined  to 
the  well-known  name  and  high  reputation    of  his 
family,  who  are  as  respectable  as  they  are  respected, 
make  liim  quite  a  phenomenon  as  the  head  of  the 
police,  and  an  additional  guarantee  for  the  cabinet's 
honesty  in  the  estimation  of  the  chief  hourrjeoisie  of 
Paris.     M.  de  Remusat,  although  less  known,  is  a 
still  more  useful  appointment.    It  is  a  good  thing  for 
the  Grovemment  as  well  as  for  himself.     You  know 
his  worth,  and  how  circumstances  stronger  even  than 
his  will  are  likely  to  make  him  bring  to  the  sm-face 
all  the  rare  talents,  the  courage,  intelligence,  and 
cleverness  which  nature  has  treasured  up  in  his  mind. 
This  is  the  first  time  that  he  has  had  the  opportunity 
of  coming  forward  in  the  way  he  likes.    He  has  had 


172  MONSIEUR    GUIZOT   IN    PRIVATE   LIFE. 

the  sense  to  seize  it,  and  everybody  predicts  that  he 
will  succeed. 

'  I  hope  you  consider  this  a  sufficiently  detailed 
bulletin.  I  know  that  you  wished  for  one ;  and  I  re- 
peat, setting  aside  all  the  illusions  of  youth,  the  be- 
ginning of  this  ministry  looks  much  better  to  me  here 
than  it  seems  to  you  at  a  distance.  There  is  earnest- 
ness withou-t  anxiety,  enthusiasm  without  presump- 
tion ;  finally,  all  our  friends  have  advanced  from 
secondary  places  to  the  front,  and  they  are  determined, 
I  think,  to  show  that  they  are  worthy  of  their  posi- 
tion. One  must  own,  too,  that  honest  men  and  high 
reputations  are  worth  having,  and  their  reign  has 
begun :  it  will  not  continue  without  shocks  and  in- 
terruptions, but  it  will  grow  and  strengthen  every 
day.  The  battle  is  no  longer  being  fought  between 
honest  men  and  rascals ;  it  is  between  honest  men 
and  rogues  who  are  ashamed  of  themselves,  and  who 
assume  the  name  and  appearance  of  honesty  as  well 
as  they  can.  That  they  feel  the  want  of  it,  and  tliat 
they  are  obliged  to  seem  honest  in  order  to  have  a 
chance  of  doinc:  mischief  under  the  shelter  of  their 
names  or  their  characters,  is  a  decided  improvement. 
The  battle  will  continue  longer,  but  it  will  be  less 
dangerous,  less  violent  than  the  last;  and  if  the 
country  be  sometimes  disturbed,  it  will  not  be  revo- 
lutionized, as  under  the  other  system.' 

In  the  midst  of  these  political  affiiirs,  which  soon 
became  difficult  and  inti-icate,  it  was  a  great  rest, 
and  a  subject  of  constant  and  delightful  intei'est, 
to  begin  the  alterations  and  arrangements   in   the 


VAL-RICHER.  173 

house  and  gardens  of  the  newly-bought  estate,  Val- 
Richer.  The  house  was  large ;  it  might  be  made 
comfortable  and  agreeable  ;  but  the  interior  aiTange- 
ments  were  complicated,  and  very  costly.  As  M. 
Guizot  was  not  able  to  see  to  them  himself,  he  sent 
his  son,  with  M.  Meurand,  one  of  Francois'  greatest 
friends.  The  letters  of  the  minister — who  was 
harassed  at  that  time  by  the  stormy  discussions  in  the 
Chambers,  and  the  attempt  of  Prince  Louis  Napoleon 
on  the  garrison  of  Strasbourg  — were  full  of  the  most 
minute  questions  and  answers  on  every  detail  con- 
nected with  the  work  his  son  was  superintending. 
On  the  twentieth  of  October,  1836,  he  writes :  — 
'My  dear  Francois,  —  As  we  have  enough  of  it, 
we  must  pave  the  dining-floor  with  the  stone  from 
Caen.  I  quite  approve  of  this  piece  of  economy,  all 
the  more  as  a  pavement  of  this  kind  Avill  be  as  suit- 
able there  as  a  wooden  floor.  With  regard  to  the 
wainscot,  we  must  certainly  restore  it  where  it  has 
decayed.  I  hold  to  economy,  but  also  to  solidity. 
When  once  we  have  arranged  our  house,  we  must 
not  have  to  begin  again. 

'  As  to  thoj  road,  between  ourselves  I  adA-ise  you 
to  be  cautious :  it  is  of  importance  that  we  should  not 
be  committed  to  an  excessive  expense.  My  natural 
inclination  was  to  think  that  the  reparation  of  the 
bye-road  which  leads  from  La  Boissiere  to  Cam- 
bremer,  and  passes  the  end  of  Val-Richer,  was  the 
simplest  and  most  obvious  plan.  I  mean  the  one  of 
which  the  repairs  have  just  been  voted  by  the  com- 
mune of  S.  Ouen.   But  I  have  not  seen  enough  of  the 


174  MOXSIEUR    GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

place,  or  discussed  the  matter  sufficiently,  to  have  an 
opinion  on  this  subject.  I  will  trust  to  what  you  and 
our  friends  decide  upon.  You  must  bear  in  mind, 
however,  that  personal  interests  are  very  much  con- 
cerned, that  each  one  wants  the  road  made  in  the 
way  that  will  suit  him  best ;  and  we  must  take  care 
that  they  do  not  make  use  of  us  while  they  appear 
to  want  to  be  of  u.se  to  us. 

'  Have  you  paid  attention  to  the  pipes  1  I  ar- 
ranged about  them  with  M.  Cocagne ;  this  seems  to 
me  to  be  urgent,  es2Decially  as  winter  is  coming  on. 

'  Have  you  ordered  the  floor  for  my  study  on  the 
first  story  ? 

'  Try  to  settle  and  to  order  beforehand  all  that 
Marin  will  have  to  do  in  the  winter.  As  we  take 
him  into  our  sei-vice,  we  must  employ  his  time  and 
his  abilities.  Some  one  suggested  that  it  wovald  be  a 
good  thing  to  enlarge  the  nursery  for  young  trees, 
and  that  he  would  do  this  well.  Will  you  see  to 
this  ?  What  we  have  to  fear  is,  that  during  our  fre- 
quent absences  very  little  Avill  be  done.  Take  every 
precaution  against  this.  The  best  way  is  to  perfectly 
acquaint  yourself  with  all  that  ought  ancj  can  be  done, 
so  as  to  be  able  to  give  orders  and  superintend  the 
work,  even  from  a  distance. 

'  I  have  said  nothing  about  politics  ;  they  are  not 
going  on  badly.  SAvitzerland  is  the  question  which 
troubles  me  most.  We  have  to  treat  there  with  the 
mob,  which  is  neither  agreeable  nor  easy.  I  admire 
more  and  more  the  saying  of  Pascal :  "  Numbers 
without    unity   produce    confusion,    unity   without 


DEATH   OF   FRANCOIS    GUIZOT.  175 

numbers  becomes  tp-anny."     This  is  the  real  motto 
for  a  Constitutional  Government. 

'Farewell,  my  dear  child.  Meurand  shall  stay 
with  you  during  the  ten  or  eleven  days  you  ask  for. 
Amuse  yourselves  as  much  as  you  can  and  set  people 
to  work.  But  I  shall  be  charmed  to  see  you  back 
again ;  I  miss  you  more  than  I  can  tell.  Nothino- 
rests  or  pleases  me  so  much  as  a  perfectly  time  and 
frank  conversation  with  some  one  I  love.' 

Francois  Guizot  caught  cold  on  the  journey  home 
from  Val-Richer  in  the  beginning  of  November. 
Neither  he  nor  any  one  else  paid  any  attention  to  his 
indisposition.  He  generally  enjoyed  good  health,  he 
was  tall  and  handsome,  and  just  twenty-one  years  of 
age.  Soon,  however,  pleurisy  declared  itself,  and  in 
spite  of  the  most  tender  and  assiduous  care  the  evil 
continued  to  gain  ground.  Scarcely  two  months  had 
elapsed  since  the  death  of  Madame  Jean-Jacques 
Guizot,  who  surA-ived  her  husband  for  two  years. 
Fran9ois'  two  friends,*  M.  Meurand  and  M.  Beliier, 
relieved  each  other  at  his  bedside. 

In  the  night  of  the  fifteenth  of  Febniary,  1837,  the 
elder  son — the  sixpport  and  hope  of  the  whole  family 
—  expired  without  a  struggle.  A  few  hours  after 
his  father  had  closed  his  eyes,  M.  Guizot  wrote  to 
Madame  de  Broo-lie  :  — 


* 


Fraii9ois  Guizot's  two  friends  justified  his  esteem  and  affec- 
tion. M.  Meurand  became  Director  of  the  communal  affairs  at  the 
Ministere  des  Affaires  Etrangeres,  and  M.  Behier  was  one  of  the 
most  eminent  physicians  of  his  day.  They  both  remained  tenderly 
attached  to  M.  Guizot. 


176  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT    IN    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

'  Dear  Friend,  —  He  has  just  left  me.  I  was  in 
bed  when  I  heard  his  last  sigh;  I  reached  him  in  time 
for  him  to  see  me  once  more.  He  has  gone  to  join 
his  mother.  He  looked  at  me  as  he  left  me ;  his 
countenance  was  wasted,  but  so  calm !  May  God 
support  me  as  much  as  He  tries  me !  When  my 
turn  comes  I  shall  eagerly  lay  me  down  to  rest,  for 
I  am  very  weaiy.' 

Those  who  saw  it  never  forgot  the  face  of  the 
fa*her  when  following  his  son's  coffin  to  its  last  home. 
On  his  return  to  the  desolate  house,  in  which  his 
three  little  children  lay  sick,  he  threw  himself  upon 
his  elder  daughter's  bed,  embraced  her  tenderly,  and 
whispered  in  a  tone  which  still  vibrates  in  her  ear, 
'I  have  now  no  one  but  you.'  The  child  was  only 
eight  years  old. 

Political  embarrassments  made  the  weight  of  M. 
Guizot's  personal  sorrow  still  more  overwhelming. 
He  was  obliged  to  defend  in  the  Chambers  his  pro- 
posed law  for  secondary  education,  the  Opposition 
was  becoming  every  day  more  violent,  and  the 
measures  of  the  Government  were  entirely  defeated. 
These  parliamentary  checks  caused  the  dissolution  of 
the  Cabinet.  At  one  time  M.  Guizot,  who  was  sent 
for  by  the  King,  hoped  to  be  able  to  reconstnict  the 
Ministry  of  the  eleventh  of  October,  but  M.  Thiers 
refused  to  join  it.  M.  Guizot  and  his  friends  resigned 
on  the  fifteenth  of  April,  1837,  leaving  to  M.  Molg 
the  task  of  forming  a  conciliatory  Cabinet.  A  few 
days  before,  M.  Guizot  addi-essed  the  Chamber  in 
these  words :  — 


DEATH   OF   FKAXCOIS    GUIZOT.  177 

'I  have  already,  in  the  course  of  my  hfe,  heen 
called  upon  several  times  to  take  up  and  lay  down 
the  reins  of  power,  and  as  regards  myself  personally, 
I  am  profoundly  indifferent  to  these  political  vicissi- 
tudes. The  only  interest  I  have  in  them  is  that  of 
the  public  —  the  interest  of  the  cause  to  which  I  be- 
long and  which  I  have  the  honour  of  supporting. 
You  are  well  aware,  gentlemen,  that  it  has  pleased 
God  to  visit  me  with  joys  and  sorrows  which  render 
the  heart  cold  and  indifferent  to  every  other  species 
of  pleasure  or  of  pain.' 

As  soon  as  the  session  was  over,  M.  Guizot  went 
to  Val-Richer ;  he  wrote  to  the  Duchesse  de  Broglie, 
who  had  been  for  some  weeks  in  Switzerland :  — 

'Dear  Friend, — I  know  that  you  are  comfortably 
settled,  but  this  is  not  enough  for  me  ;  how  are  you? 
and  how  is  Albert  ?  I  delig-ht  in  this  fine  weather  for 
his  sake ;  it  seems  to  me  that  the  heat  must  be  good 
for  liim ;  only  take  care  that  he  does  not  tire  himself 
too  much  among  the  mountains.  He  may  tire  him- 
self as  much  by  rushing  about  in  the  open  air  as  by 
sedentary  work,  and  at  his  age  neither  the  one  sort  of 
fatigue  nor  the  other  is  noticed.  Pray  give  me  some 
particulars  as  to  his  health  and  yours  also.  You 
seemed  to  me  to  be  a  little  below  par  when  you 
started.  Was  the  cause  mental  or  physical  ?  I  could 
not  tell,  for  it  is  a  long  time  since  we  have  talked 
nuich  together.  I  know  of  no  reason  for  yom-  being 
out  of  spirits,  but  I  noticed  the  fact. 

'We  go  to-mon-ow  to  Val-Richer,  to  the  great 
joy  of  the  whole  family,  from  my  mother  down  to 


12 


178  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

Guillaunie.  I  cannot  say  that  I  feel  very  joyful,  I 
intended  Val-Richer  for  my  son;  he  took  a  great 
fancy  to  it.  I  go  thither  without  any  bitter  feeling, 
on  the  contrary,  I  love  the  shadow  of  those  I  have 
lost,  but  there  is  no  joy  in  this.  Francois  was  my 
future.  Not  one  of  my  childi-en  is  yet,  or  can  ever 
become,  what  he  would  have  been.  Besides  his 
personal  charm,  Francois  had  a  part  in  my  whole 
life  ;  there  was  not  one  interest,  affection,  or  remem- 
brance in  the  past,  to  which  he  was  a  stranger ;  with 
him  there  were  no  broken  tlu-eads,  no  gaps,  no 
silence.  Even  Henrietta  will  never  be  able  to  give 
me  all  this.  And  then  if  you  knew  the  instances  of 
tender  sympathy  and  care  which  I  have  found  out, 
which  I  am  always  finding  out,  on  his  part !  He 
watched  over  me  as  a  secret  guardian,  attentive  to 
my  least  requirements,  to  my  smallest  troubles  — 
public  or  private.  And  so  simply,  so  modestly,  al- 
though with  so  much  ^^vacity  and  independence ! 
Oh,  my  dear  friend,  what  happiness,  Avhat  a  privilege 
to  have  possessed  for  a  short  time  such  exquisite 
beings,  but  what  a  void  after  their  departure ! ' 

On  his  return  to  Paris,  M.  Guizot  Avrote  to  M.  de 
Barante  :  — 

'  My  dear  friend,  I  did  not  write  to  you  earlier, 
I  had  too  much  to  say.  Above  all,  my  heart  was  so 
broken,  that  I  did  nothing,  and-  said  nothing  for  a 
long  time  that  I  could  help.  It  was  as  much  as  I 
could  manage  to  do  what  was  absolutely  necessary. 
Three  months  of  country  life  have  restored  me  a 
little.     I  am  returning  into  the  vortex. 

'  What  is  going  to  happen  ?     I  cannot  tell,  and 


DEATH   OF   FKANCOIS    GUIZOT.  179 

I  hope  nothing  will  happen.  I  consider  the  present 
state  of  affairs  as  a  sort  of  parenthesis,  it  is  a  good 
thing,  and  good,  I  think,  for  all  parties  that  it  should 
be  a  long  one.  The  session  will  begin  with  great  dis- 
trust and  great  reserve  on  all  sides ;  caution  is  the 
reigning  sentiment  now-a-days.  To  have  no  opinion, 
no  will,  not  to  compromise  oneself  for  anything  or 
anybody,  is  to  be  Avise  —  a  false  wisdom,  as  you 
know,  and  one  which  suits  this  form  of  government 
less  than  any  other.  Nevertheless  it  has  its  turn.  I 
do  not  know,  however,  why  I  tell  you  all  this.  You 
are  coming,  we  shall  talk  it  over,  and  although  you 
will  be  torn  in  several  directions,  we  shall  converse 
freely  and  sincerely. 

'  My  health  is  good,  my  three  little  children  are 
well  also.  Their  trip  to  the  country  and  their  sea- 
baths  have  agreed  with  them  AAonderfully.  Do  you 
know  what  it  is  to  have  lost  all  feeling  of  security  f 
At  one  time  I  felt  safe,  I  had  by  my  side  one  who 
would  have  been  a  fother  to  my  little  children.  I 
should  have  died  in  peace,  I  can  do  so  no  longer.' 

Security  never  again  came  back  to  my  father.  He 
never  lost  the  impression  produced  by  the  sudden 
and  painful  blows  which,  one  after  another,  had  been 
inflicted  on  him.  He  never,  however,  would  admit 
the  thought  that  the  greatest  happiness  life  affords 
could  be  purchased-  too  dearly,  even  at  the  price  of 
the  most  cruel  sufferings ;  and  he  never  ceased  to 
thank  God  for  having  bestowed  on  him  gifts  of  such 
rare  value,  and  which  had  been  so  exquisitely  en- 
joyed by  him. 

He  says  in  his  Memoirs :  — 


180  MONSIEUR    GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

'  I  do  not  agree  with  Dante,  when  he  says  :  — 

"  Nessun  maggior  dolore 
Che  ricordarsi  del  tempo  felice 
Nella  niiseria  .  .  .  ." 

"  There  is  no  grief  more  bitter  than  the  memory  of 
happy  clays,  when  we  are  in  misfortune." 

'On  the  contrary,  in  my  opinion  a  great  happiness 
resembles  a  bright  light,  whose  rays  are  still  reflected 
on  spaces  which  it  no  longer  illuminates ;  and  when 
heaven  and  time  have  allayed  the  first  rebellious 
feelings  of  the  heart  against  misfortune,  we  ai-e  able 
to  tm-n  round  and  enjoy  once  more  the  contemplation 
of  the  lost  blessings  that  were  om-s  in  the  past' 

M.  Guizot  always  appreciated,  at  their  real  value, 
and  contemplated,  in  their  true  light,  the  treasm'es 
which  were  bestowed  on  him. 

'  Two  noble  women  occupied  the  first  place  in  my 
life,'  he  wrote  ;  '  there  were  never  five  minutes  of 
romance  between  us.  I  despise  romance ;  it  pretends 
to  surpass,  and  yet  it  is  far  below,  reality.  True  love, 
sincere  admiration,  real  devotion,  are  very  uncom- 
mon ;  and  this  is  why  those  who  have  never  experi- 
enced them  call  these  feelings  romantic.  They  are  not 
so  at  all ;  on  the  contrary,  where  they  really  exist,  they 
are  all  that  is  most  simple,  natural,  and  practical. 
We  must  not  make  the  mistake  of  taking  for  realities 
the  fancies  which  have  only  usuiped  their  names.  The 
aerolites  passing  tlu-ough  the  air  are  also  called  stars; 
but  they  are  not  really  the  same,  and  the  stars  con- 
tinue to  give  their  pure  and  steady  light,  regardless 
of  the  delusive  gleams  which  shoot  and  shine  for  a 
moment  in  the  inferior  regions  of  the  atmosj)here.' 


Jfj  WjiCJll  !'■■ 


LE   COMTE    MOLE. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
1837-40. 

DEATH  OF  THE  DUCHESSE  DE  BROGLIE LETTERS  TO 

HIS  CHILDREN. 

Three  years  elapsed  before  M.  Guizot  again  took 
an  active  part  in  the  administration.  He  supported 
tlie  ministry  of  M.  Mole  at  first,  while  trying  to 
liberalise  it.  In  the  session  of  1838-9,  he,  however, 
joined  the  Opposition,  and  allied  himself  with  tlie 
Left.  The  Conservative  party  long  continued  to 
feel  the  temporary  dislocation  consequent  on  the 
coalition. 

In  this  interval  of  comparative  freedom,  M.  Guizot 
wrote  with  great  pleasure  the  Life  of  Washington, 
'  of  all  gi-eat  men,  the  happiest  and  most  vu-tuous.'  * 
Every  year  brought  him,  for  a  few  months,  to  Val- 
Richer. 

'  Happiness,  public  life,  solitude,'  he  wrote,  '  it  is 
blasphemy  to  put  these  three  together;  happiness 
ought  never  to  be  mentioned,  except  by  itself  Noth- 
ing is  at  all  like  it.  But  if  one  has  not  happiness, 
and  is  not  engaged  in  politics,  I  prefer  solitude  to 


*  See  his  Etude  sur  Washington. 


182  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN"   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

idle  gossip.  I  know  that  one  could  not  bear  solitude 
for  long;  that  the  mind  Avould  soon  exhaust  itself 
by  living  at  its  own  expense,  and  on  itself.  But  to 
finish  the  day  alone,  to  walk  for  a  couple  of  hours 
looking  at  nothing,  saying  nothing;  hearing  only 
the  sound  of  our  own  steps  ;  listening  only  to  the 
voice  within  us,  which  speaks  to  us  of  our  past  or 
our  future  —  this  has  its  charm.  Even  in  public 
life,  some  solitude  is  good.  For  a  little  while  in  each 
day  one  ought  to  shake  off  every  yoke,  to  look 
within,  to  allow  one's  ideas  to  roam  with  the  care- 
less liberty  which  alone  preserves  originality  and 
elevation  of  thought.  Governing  is  not  like  plough- 
ing. One  gets  stupified  if  one  always  has  the  hand 
on  the  plough,  and  the  eye  on  the  furrow.  It  is  a 
great  \'ice  of  oui"  political  organization  in  France,  that 
our  public  men  are  condemned  to  such  incessant 
work,  such  an  absolute  want  of  leisure.  Such  a  life 
makes  one  feel  as  if  one  were  turning  into  a  machine, 
and  one  becomes  unable  to  execute  one's  task,  be- 
cause it  has  been  impossible  to  lay  it  down  and  for- 
get it  from  time  to  time.' 

A  new  sorrow,  which  brought  back  all  the  old 
grief,  fell  upon  M.  Guizot  and  liis  family  in  1838 
He  had  been  spending,  as  had  long  been  his  annual 
custom,  some  weeks  at  Broglie,  accompanied  by  his 
mother  and  his  children.  ]\I.  and  Madame  de  Broglie 
were  in  theu*  tmii  to  visit,  for  the  first  time,  Val- 
Richer.  Madame  de  Brogrlie  went  beforehand  to 
Paris  to  be  present  at  the  distribution  of  prizes 
awarded  at  the  great  examination,  in  which  her  son 


DEATH   OF   THE    DUCHESSE   DE   BROGLIE.        183 

had  obtained  great  success.  Madame  Guizot  was 
not  to  leave  Brog-lie  until  the  next  day.  In  the 
evening,  Madame  de  Broglie  went  into  the  room 
where  the  children  slept,  and  kissed  them.  They 
never  forgot  the  look  of  tenderness  in  her  heavenly 
eyes,  which  seemed  to  penetrate  into  another  world. 
She  returned,  happy  and  proud  of  her  son's  prizes, 
to  Broglie.  In  the  middle  of  September  she  was 
attacked  by  bi-ain-fever ;  dm-ing  her  illness  she  re- 
peated several  times,  '  I  don't  care,  this  shall  not 
prevent  my  going  to  Val-Richer.'  She  died  on  the 
twenty-second.  Her  husband  wrote  to  M.  Guizot:  — 
'  You  have  lost  an  excellent  friend,  and  I  all  my 
share  of  happiness  in  this  world.' 

The  day  on  which  she  was  to  have  amved  at  Val- 
Richer  was  the  day  of  her  funeral.  She  had  loved 
all  those  whom  M.  Guizot  had  loved  and  lost. 

'  During  twenty  years  her  friendship  had  been 
perfectly  delightful  to  me  in  my  happiness,  and  a 
still  greater  consolation  in  my  sorrow,'  he  writes  in 
his  Memoirs.  '  She  was  one  of  the  most  noble,  rare, 
and  channing  creatures,  this  worid  has  ever  seen ; 
and  I  can  say  nothing  of  her  more  appropriate  than 
these  words  of  St.  Simon,  when  deploring  the  loss  of 
tlie  Duke  of  Burgundy,  "  May  it  please  God's  mercy 
that  I  be  permitted  to  see  her  eternally  in  that  worid 
to  which  His  Almighty  Goodness  has,  no  doubt, 
called  her." ' 

In  1839,  M.  Guizot  spent  tlnee  days  at  Fontaine- 
bleau.     He  had  been  present  in  June,  1837,  at  the 


184  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

marriage  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans  to  Princess  Helen 
of  Mecklenburg-Schwerin,  and  in  the  following  Sep- 
tember he  was  in\nted  to  Compiegne,  where  the 
Prince  was  in  command  of  the  camp ;  on  his  return 
he  wrote  to  Madame  Guizot :  — 

'  I  enjoyed  my  visit  to  Compiegne  very  much. 
It  was  very  quiet,  there  were  no  manoeuvi-es  or 
fatiguing  excm-sions.  We  took  a  beautiful  drive 
of  five  hours  in  the  forest — tlie  Duchess  of  Orleans, 
the  Grand  Duchess  of  Mecklenburg,  the  Duke  of 
Orleans,  and  I  —  all  in  the  same  carriage.  There  was 
plenty  of  opportunity  for  talking,  and  we  made  such 
a  good  txse  of  it,  that  when  I  came  back  my  throat 
was  quite  sore.  But  the  time  when  I  had  most  con- 
versation with  the  Duchess  was  at  dinner.  On  the 
second  day,  I  was  put  next  to  her.  She  is  really 
clever,  very  clever ;  her  mind  is  earnest,  full  of  ele- 
vated, moral  feeling,  joined  with  a  lively  imagination, 
which  shows  itself  in  the  animated  expression  of  her 
eyes,  and  in  her  ready  emotion  —  always,  however, 
restrained  within  the  bounds  of  a  proper  reserve  and 
dignity.  She  is,  perhaps,  too  highly  educated.  I 
hope  she  will  forget  a  little  of  what  she  has  learned 
from  books.  She  certainly  pleased  me  very  much  — 
entirely,  sincerely,  and  in  the  right  way  ;  and  I 
think  she  liked  talking  to  me,  for  when  she  heard 
tliat  I  was  to  leave  half  a  day  earlier,  she  immedi- 
ately manifested  her  regret  in  a  manner  that  was 
evidently  sincere.  I  had  a  gi-eat  deal  of  conversation 
also  with  the  Duke,  especially  on  his  proposed  ex- 
pedition to  Constantino,  and  his  motives  for  giving 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  CHILDREN.         185 

it  up,  after  it  had  been  decided  that  he  might  be 
allowed  to  go  thither.  I  praised  liim  liighly  for 
giving  it  up.  He  will  stay  with  the  Duchess  at 
Compiegne  until  the  beginning  of  October.  The 
King  and  Queen  will  join  them  between  the  twen- 
tieth and  twenty -fifth  of  this  month. 

'  The  general  election  is  still  fixed  for  the  begin- 
ning of  November.  I  am  told  that  the  kinof  contin- 
lies  to  reserve  the  right  of  saying  no  if  Don  Carlos 
comes  to  Madrid  or  the  gates  of  Madrid  ;  and  I  think 
that,  in  this  case,  he  will  do  rightly.  To  tell  the 
truth,  the  affair  has  advanced  so  far  that  it  is  very 
difficult  to  help  going  forward  with  it  to  the  end. 
There  are  some  things  which  are  done  by  talking 
about  them.  At  Compiegne  I  saw  Ernest  de  Cha- 
baud,*  just  come  from  Africa,  and  in  excellent  health. 
We  talked  a  good  deal  to  each  otiier.  His  conver- 
sation is  very  agreeable ;  the  Duke  of  Orleans  thinks 
so,  as  well  as  myself.' 

From  Fontainebleau  M.  Guizot  wrote  to  his  elder 
daughter  on  the  eighth  of  October,  1839  :  — 

'  I  am  lodged  in  a  charming  apartment  on  the 
ground-floor  opening  into  the  garden  in  the  Cour 
des  Princes,  an  apartment  in  which  strange  scenes 
have  been  acted.  When  I  arrived  yesterday  I  moved 
my  dressing-table,  which  stood  in  the  bow  of  a  large 
window,  and  I  found  behind  it  this  inscription :  "  It 
was  near  this  window  that  Monaldeschi  was  killed 


*  The  Commandaut  E.  de  Chabaud  was  at  that  time  in  attend- 
ance on  the  Duke  of  Orleans.  The  sad  honour  of  commaudiuK  the 
Engineei-s  at  tlie  siege  of  Paris  was  in  store  for  him. 


"o 


186  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

by  tlie  order  of  Clmstina,  Queen  of  Sweden,  on  the 
tenth  of  November,  1657."  Be  happy,  tlie  same 
thing  will  not  occur  to  me. 

'  There  are  a  great  many  people  here ;  yesterday 
there  were  seventy  or  eighty  people  at  dinner,  drawn 
from  every  quarter  of  the  globe.  Among  them  I 
found  a  young  Secretary  of  Legation,  M.  Dubois  de 
Saligny,  whom  I  appointed  a  few  years  ago,  and  who 
has  just  arrived  from  Texas.  Do  you  know  what 
Texas  is  and  where  it  is  ?  It  is  a  new  nation  which 
is  rising  up  in  America,  between  Mexico  and  the 
United  States.  Its  capital  is  a  town  which  as  yet 
has  no  existence,  on  the  borders  of  Colorado ;  and 
its  President,  who  is  like  a  king,  set  off  with  his 
ministers  a  few  weeks  ago,  carrying  his  tent  and 
provisions,  to  live  on  the  banks  of  the  river,  and 
build  his  own  house.  A  great  many  years  and  many 
events  must  pass  before  lie  will  be  as  well  lodged  as 
the  King  of  France  at  Fontainebleau.' 


'& 


Politics  often  called  M.  Guizot  to  Paris.  M. 
Mole's  Ministry  fell  in  the  beginning  of  the  year,  and 
was  succeeded  on  the  twelfth  of  May,  1839,  by  a 
Cabinet  which  contained  several  of  M.  Guizot's  per- 
sonal friends,  of  whom  M.  Duchatel  was  the  chief. 
The  coalition  had  in  vain  tried  to  hold  together  as  a 
distinct  party  and  to  form  a  Cabinet ;  the  vice  of  its 
origin  showed  itself  conspicuously,  and  the  Ministe- 
rial crisis  lasted  so  long  that  recourse  was  had  to  a 
Provisional  Cabinet.  The  riot  on  the  twelfth  of  May 
put  an  end  to  this  unsatisfactory  condition. 


!S 

a 

a 

a 
a 
s 

o 
oi 

b 

a" 

03 


z 
o 


LETTERS    TO   HIS    CniLDREN.  187 

M.  Guizot  stoutly  supported  the  new  Ministry. 
He  wrote  every  day  to  liis  mother  and  childi-en,  wlio 
went  before  him  to  Val-Richer ;  superintending  his 
chikiren's  education,  and,  although  at  a  distance, 
continuing  the  lessons  which  they  were  so  proud  of 
receiving  from  him  when  he  was  with  them. 

'  My  dear  Henriette,'  he  wrote  on  the  third  of 
June,  *I  must  quarrel  with  you  again  about  your 
punctuation  ;  there  is  not  any,  or  scarcely  any,  in 
your  letters.  The  sentences  follow  each  other  with- 
out any  distinction  or  separation,  like  Avords  in  the 
same  sentence.  If  this  had  no  other  inconvenience 
than  that  of  continually  causing  a  certain  amount  of 
embarrassment  and  astonishment  in  the  reader,  it 
would  be  a  sufficient  reason  for  yom-  curing  your- 
self and  learning  to  punctuate  like  other  people. 
But  there  is  another  and  still  more  important  reason 
which  you  will,  I  am  sure,  acknowledge.  You  are 
very  ready,  you  understand  and  you  execute  quickly, 
and  as  soon  as  you  have  understood  or  finished  any- 
thing, you  do  not  stop  for  an  instant,  you  like  to 
pass  on  at  once  to  something  else ;  this  is  why  you 
put  no  stops.  Every  stop  —  comma,  or  any  other 
—  marks  a  rest  for  the  mind,  a  pause  which  is  more 
or  less  long,  a  thought  finished  or  suspended,  and 
separated  by  a  sign  from  the  rest.  You  suppress 
these  rests,  these  pauses ;  you  write  as  water  runs 
and  as  aiTows  fly.  This  is  absm'd,  for  the  thoughts 
one  expresses,  the  things  one  speaks  of  in  a  letter 
are  not  all  absolutely  alike  and  blended  together 
like  di-ops  of  water.     There  ai-e  differences  and  dis- 


188  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

tances  between  them  —  more  or  less  wide,  but  all 
real  —  and  the  object  of  punctuation  is  to  mark  these 
differences  and  distances.  It  is  absurd  in  you,  there- 
fore, to  suppress  these  signs ;  in  so  doing  you  sup- 
press the  natural  distances  and  differences  that  exist 
in  ideas  as  well  as  in  things.  The  consequence  is 
that  one  feels  confused  and  annoyed  in  reading  your 
letters;  the  absence  of  stops  gives  a  certain  false 
uniformity  to  all  the  things  you  say,  and  deprives 
them  of  their  relative  position  and  character  by  pre- 
senting them  all  at  once,  and  as  if  exactly  ahke,  or 
at  least  related  to  each  other ! 

'  But  here  is  another  still  more  serious  objection. 
Quickness,  my  child,  is  a  precious  quality.  There 
are  so  many  things  to  be  learnt,  seen,  and  done  in 
life,  and  we  have  so  little  time  to  give  to  them,  that 
you  are  very  fortunate  to  have  received  from  God 
these  gifts  of  rapid  execution  and  comprehension 
which  enable  you  to  do  and  to  understand  a  great 
deal  in  a  short  time,  and  consequently  to  acquit 
yourself  better  of  your  task  in  life.  But  every  ad- 
vantage has  a  corresponding  disadvantage,  which 
we  must  take  care  to  avoid.  If  I  were  speaking  of 
mental  qualities  I  should  say  that  very  energetic 
people,  are  often  wanting  in  gentleness ;  and  very 
brave  people,  in  prudence.  Either  Pascal  or  La 
Bruy^re,  I  cannot  remember  which,  says  some- 
where :  "A  virtue  does  not  attain  its  full  merit  and 
value  unless  it  is  accompanied  by  the  opposite  vir- 
tue. To  firmness  must  be  added  gentleness  and  to 
gentleness   energy.     The   good   and   the   beautiful 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  CHILDREN.         189 

must  be  complete,  estimable,  and  admirable  in  every 
respect." 

'  That  which  is  true  with  regard  to  moral  quali- 
ties, my  dear  child,  is  equally  true  respecting  in- 
tellectual qualities.  A  talent  ought  not  to  be  the 
gei-m  of  a  defect.  Now,  rapid  comprehension  may 
produce  inattention :  when  one  understands  easily 
one  does  not  always  take  the  trouble  to  understand 
perfectly ;  when  one  runs  very  fast,  one  does  not 
look  about,  and  consequently  one  does  not  see  all 
that  is  to  be  seen  and  noticed  on  the  road.  Precisely 
because  you  understand  so  easily  and  quickly  you 
must  force  yourself  to  jDause,  to  examine  everything 
with  care,  and  not  to  be  satisfied  with  what  strikes 
you  at  first  sight.  Otherwise  a  great  deal  will  escape 
you —  you  will  know  and  do  nothing  perfectly.  And 
a  great  and  natural  talent  will  turn  into  an  annoy- 
ing imperfection. 

'  This  is  a  very  long  letter,  dear  Henriette,  but 
you  knoAV  that  I  like  chatting  with  you.  And, 
besides,  it  is  impossible  to  correct  a  fault  until  one 
thoroughly  understands  whence  it  arises  and  what  it 
leads  to.  Make  a  resolution  never  to  send  off  a  letter 
without  reading  it  carefully  over,  exclusively  with 
regard  to  punctuation.  AVlien  once  you  have  acquired 
the  habit  you  will  no  longer  need  to  take  this  care, 
and  you  will  some  day  find  that  the  habit  of  punctu- 
ation has  made  you  attentive.' 

A  few  days  later  he  writes :  — 

'  My  dear  child,  you  will  think  me  very  tiresome, 
but,  pray,  do  not  tlu-ow  such  a  quantity  of  commas 


190  MONSIEUR    GUIZOT    IJT    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

at  my  head.  You  crush  me  with  them,  as  the  Ro- 
mans crushed  poor  Tatia  with  their  shiekls.  "  Grand- 
mamma would  not,  let  us  go  to  the  nursery  garden, 
because,  it  was  too  hot.  We  both,  did  very  well, 
our  piano  lessons ;  I  did  well,  my  writing  lesson." 
What  reason  can  you  give  me  in  favoiu-  of  those  I 
have  marked  ?  Evidently  there  was  no  suspension 
or  interval  between  the  things  or  the  ideas  expressed ; 
on  the  contrary,  they  all  hold  closely  together,  and 
one  must  pass  without  stopping  from  the  one  to  tlie 
other.  Think  of  what  you  are  doing,  think  whether 
you  ought  or  ought  not  to  put  a  comma,  just  as  you 
Avould  consider  whether  you  should  take  one  road  or 
another  when  you  Avish  to  go  somewhere.  Wlien 
you  want  to  visit  the  swans  you  do  not  go  out  by 
way  of  the  laundi-y.  Why  !  Because  you  think  of 
what  you  are  about.  Take  the  same  trouble  in 
everything.  Om-  intelligence  is  given  us  in  order  to 
think  of  Avhat  we  are  doing,  not  to  spare  us  the 
trouble  of  thinking. 

'  Now  I  come  to  what  will  please  you.  I  shall 
start  to-morrow  by  the  mail,  I  have  taken  my  place  ; 
I  shall,  therefore,  reach  you  early  on  Fridaj^  morn- 
ing. It  will  make  me  very  happy  to  see  you  again, 
my  dear  childi-en,  and  I  hope  you  will  be  very  happy 
also. 

'  Paris  is  very  qiiiet.  Yesterday  we  had,  in  front 
of  the  Chambers,  not  a  disturbance,  but  the  shadow 
of  one.  Seven  or  eight  hundi-ed  people  collected  in 
the  Place  Louis  XV.  They  wanted  to  march  to  the 
Chambers  to  demand  the  abolition  of  capital  punish- 


LETTERS    TO   HIS    CHILDREN.  191 

ment.  The  charter  forbids  petitions  to  Ije  brought 
to  the  Chambers  in  person.  They  were  told  to  go 
home.  They  refused.  A  squach-on  of  the  Municipal 
Guard  advanced  at  a  rapid  trot,  and  instantly  the 
crowd  dispersed.  One  of  the  guards  took  the  standard- 
bearer,  tlu-ew  him  like  a  sack  of  wheat  across  his 
horse,  and  earned  him  to  the  guard-house  of  the 
Chambers.  All  was  so  entirely  clear  and  quiet  at 
four  o'clock  that  I  went  to  dine  at  Chatenay.  I  came 
back  at  eleven  o'clock  last  night.  Pans  was  per- 
fectly tranquil,  and  is  so  again  this  mornin"-' 

M.  Guizot  had  no  wish  to  change  the  busy,  simple, 
and  regular  life  that  his  childi-en  led  under  the  direc- 
tion of  their  grandmother.  Their  natural  gaiety  and 
tender  love  for  each  other  were  enough  to  enliven  the 
somewhat  austere  rule  of  Madame  Guizot.  It  was  to 
their  father  that  these  youthful  minds  owed  all  the 
excitement  and  variety  which  they  needed.  He  took 
an  interest  in  everything  they  did;  he  elevated, 
settled,  and  charmed  their  minds.  No  reward  was 
equal  to  his  praise. 

'  Your  letter  is  very  nicely  written,  my  dear  little 
Pauline,'  he  says  on  the  sixth  of  September  to  his 
younger  daughter,  '  in  a  more  running  hand,  and 
straighter  than  usual.  Henriette's  also  was  very 
well  written.  But  you  should  not  use  such  pale  ink. 
Grandmamma  has  kept  up  the  old  habit  of  making 
ink  with  water.  Do  you  know  that  grandmamma, 
at  her  age,  writes  more  steadily  than  you  do  ? 

'  I  am  delighted  to  hear  that  you  did  your  thi-ee 
lessons  so  well ;  but  I  am  not  astonished  at  it,  my 


192  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PPJVATE   LIFE. 

dear  little  girl,  yoii  generally  do  them  very  nicely  ; 
everybody  does  who  takes  a  great  deal  of  pains.  I 
hope  that  dear  Guillaume  will  do  so  some  day,  he 
is  a  great  way  off  from  it  now. 

'  If  you  were  here,  my  children,  you  would  hear 
nothing  talked  of  but  Van  Amburgh,  and  his  mar- 
vellous power  over  lions,  tigers,  panthers,  &c.  He 
lives  among  them,  lies  on  their  backs,  lets  them 
climb  over  him,  caresses  them,  beats  them ;  some- 
times he  brings  them  a  little  lamb,  shows  it  to  them, 
lets  them  go  close  to  it  and  lick  it,  and  yet  they  do 
not  dare  to  hurt  it.  The  other  day,  when  Van  Am- 
burgh had  gone  out,  carrying  the  lamb  with  him,  the 
lion  suddenly  broke  into  a  rage,  and  threw  himself, 
roaring,  against  the  door,  which  Van  Amburgh  had 
just  closed.  Van  Amburgh  came  back  at  once,  whip 
in  hand,  and  gave  two  or  three  cuts  to  the  lion, 
which  lay  down,  and  caressed  his  feet.  I  shall  not, 
however,  take  you  to  this  sight.' 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

1840. 

EMBASSY    IN   ENGLAND INTEREST   IN 

VAL-RICHER. 

It  was  a  sad  blow  to  M.  Guizot's  children  when  the 
Ministry  offered  the  post  of  ambassador  to  the  Court 
of  St.  James  to  their  father.  The  Eastern  Question, 
which  was  becoming  more  and  more  complicated, 
threatened  to  entail  great  European  difficulties :  he 
was  thought  likely  to  obtain  great  influence  in 
England,  and,  moreover,  the  Cabinet  were  often 
puzzled  how  to  treat  an  ally  who  might  again  be- 
come their  chief 

The  King  ratified  the  appointment,  but  not  with- 
out some  hesitation. 

M.  Guizot  accepted  the  mission,  and  on  the  twen- 
tieth of  February,  1840,  he  started  for  London, 
leaving  his  mother  and  children,  who  were  to  join 
him  later  on,  in  Paris.  His  carriage  was  in  the  court 
of  his  little  house  in  the  street  La  Ville-l'^veque :  he 
had  already  got  into  it,  but  he  came  out  again,  and 
went  into  his  house  to  embrace  once  more  those  he 
left  behind. 

13 


194  IHOXSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

They  were  not  reunited  so  soon  as  they  had 
hoped.  Little  Pauline  fell  ill.  She  continued  tired 
and  fragile,  in  spite  of  the  eager  vivacity  which  was 
calculated  to  give  a  false  idea  of  her  strength.  M. 
Guizot  was  tmeasy  as  to  the  effect  of  a  London  life 
on  his  children  ;  he  dreaded  the  journey  for  them 
and  for  his  mother  —  at  that  time  it  M^as  much  more 
difficult  than  it  is  now.  Politics  were  assuming  a 
serious  aspect,  and  he  was  not  sure  of  remaining 
long  at  his  post.  The  Ministry  of  the  twelfth  of  May 
had  been  replaced  by  a  new  cabinet,  at  the  head  of 
which  was  M.  Thiers.  M.  Guizot  decided  to  stay  in 
England ;  but  differences  might  arise  and  recall  him 
to  France. 

On  the  twenty-sixth  of  April,  1840,  he  wrote  to 
Madame  Guizot :  — 

'  Dear  Mother,  —  For  all  sorts  of  reasons  — 
political  and  economical,  of  health  and  of  business, 
but  especially  on  account  of  those  two  dehcate 
children,  about  whom  I  am  more  anxious  than  I 
can  say  —  I  think  decidedly  that  we  must  resign 
ourselves,  you  and  I,  to  make  another  sacrifice.  It  is 
very  painfid  —  more  than  I  can  tell  you  —  and  it  will 
be  still  more  painful  to  you.  But  the  more  I  think 
of  it,  the  more  I  am  convinced  that  good  sense  and 
duty  —  my  duty  to  my  children  —  demand  it.  A 
sentence  in  one  of  your  letters  has  disturbed  me  a 
little.  You  seemed  to  me  to  be  a  little  agitated  your- 
self by  the  responsibility  of  living  alone  and  away 
from  me,  burdened  by  the  care  of  my  children's 
health  and  welfare.    Dear  mother,  I  quite  understand 


'■•-.' '-''^-~~ 


.  '-^-; 


t-.h'.  (Ax. 


M     THIERS. 


EMBASSY   IX   ENGLAND.  195 

this,  and  I  wish  I  could  dehver  you  from  it,  —  it 
would  be  a  comfort  and  a  I'elief  for  us  both  —  but 
as  Providence  has  laid  this  burden  upon  us,  we  must 
accept  it.  You  must  say  to  yourself  over  and  over 
again  that  it  is  impossible  to  have  a  more  entire 
confidence  than  I  have  in  you  in  every  respect,  as 
regards  the  health,  as  well  as  the  education,  of  the 
children.  With  the  assiduous  care  of  Behier,  who 
would  come  instantly  to  Val-Richer  if  you  sent  for 
him,  with  the  help  of  Rosine,  surrounded  as  you  are 
both  at  Paris  and  at  Lisieux  by  friends  and  by  every- 
thing you  can  want,  I  assure  you  I  am  as  easy  as  I 
can  possibly  be  at  a  distance.  It  is  a  ver)^  imperfect, 
melancholy  sort  of  easiness,  however.  I  felt  it  during 
Pauline's  last  indisposition.  It  never  entered  my 
head  to  doubt  your  doing,  and  having  done,  every- 
thing that  was  right  and  necessary.  This  is  all  I  can 
expect.  And  to  tell  the  truth,  anxiety  about  the 
journey,  the  passage,  the  change  of  diet  and  of  habits, 
and  the  distance  from  their  regular  doctor,  would  be 
greater  for  me  than  the  anxieties  of  absence.  Do  not, 
therefore,  be  unhappy  about  your  responsibility.  I 
share  it  even  while  I  trust  in  you,  and  my  trust  is 
complete. 

'  Think  well  of  this,  dear  mother,  and  talk  it  over 
with  our  friends.  Show  my  letters  to  them.  Ask 
Behier  to  consult  with  Andral.  As  for  me,  I  am 
convinced  that  staying  at  Val-Richer,  and  then  for  a 
month  at  Trouville,  if  the  weather  be  fine,  will  be 
much  better  for  my  children's  health  than  the  experi- 
ment of  such  a  journey  —  of  two  journeys  in  at  the 


196  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

most  four  months,  or  even  a  shorter  time,  if  new 
political  embarrassments  should  occur.  This  is  the 
exact  summary  of  the  situation,  and  of  the  grounds 
of  my  decision.  God  only  knows  the  struggles  I 
went  through  with  myself  and  my  own  wishes  before 
I  arrived  at  this  conclusion  ! 

'  I  repeat,  dear  mother  —  for  one  should  not  omit 
anything-  that  may  alleviate  pain  —  that  I  am  sure  of 
being  with  you  towards  the  end  of  September,  and 
that  I  quite  hope  to  be  able  to  spend  a  week  with 
you  in  the  course  of  the  summer. 

'Adieu,  dear  mother.  I  do  not  ask  you  to  be 
brave  —  no  one  is  more  brave  than  you  are  —  I  ask 
you  to  help  me  in  our  mutual  task.  You  had  better 
not  say  anything  to  the  childi'en  until  we  are  of  one 
mind  on  the  subject.' 

The  decision  was  made  to  the  children's  great 
sorrow.  It  disappointed  them  in  every  way.  They 
were  not  to  see  their  father,  and  they  had  to  give  up 
their  visit  to  England.  Their  courage  gave  way  a 
little.  Their  father  tried  to  raise  it.  '  My  dear 
Henriette,  my  dearest  child,'  he  wrote  on  the  ninth 
of  May,  1840,  '  you  will  not  be  sorry  when  I  tell  you 
that  your  sad  lettei's  to-day  gave  me  pleasure.  I  am 
well  aware  that  you  love  me  very  much,  and  I  am 
very  glad  to  see  proofs  of  It.  Certainly  the  sacrifice 
is  a  great  one,  and  a  very  great  one.  Twenty,  fifty 
times  a-day — when  I  awake,  when  I  come  in,  when 
I  go  upstairs,  when  I  go  down  to  my  meals,  wdien  I 
am  going  out  —  my  first  impulse  is  to  look  for  you, 
and  my  disappointment  at  not  finding  you  is  very 


EMBASSY   IN   ENGLAND.  197 

sharp.  And  do  not  think,  my  dear  child,  that  habit 
Avill  cure  me :  I  never  get  accustomed  to  these  e\'ils. 
Pray  follow  my  example,  and  love  me  as  much  when 
I  am  absent  as  when  I  am  present,  preserve  un- 
diminished your  sorrow  for  my  absence,  and  let  us 
bear  cheerfully  this  grief,  which  is  a  reasonable  one. 
We  shall  meet  towards  the  end  of  the  summer  at  the 
latest,  my  dear  children,  and  sooner  I  hope,  for  a  few 
days.  And  we  shall  enjoy  Val-Richer  together:  it 
will  be  even  more  delightful  than  usual.  I  envy 
your  seeing  the  apple-trees  in  blossom.  M.  Labbey 
writes  to  me  that  they  are  superb,  and  promise  a 
magnificent  harvest.' 

A  few  days  later,  on  the  fourteenth  of  May,  he 
writes :  — 

'  My  dear  little  Pauline,  your  picture  has  come, 
and  I  write  to  you  to  tell  you  what  pleasure  it  gives 
me.  I  shall  not  write  to  Henriette  till  to-morrow  ; 
I  am  sure  that  she  will  not  mind.  The  picture  is 
excellent,  and  the  likeness  perfect.  It  gives  me  a 
double  pleasure.  It  is  very  like  you,  and  it  looks  in 
good  health.  You  have  recovered,  therefore,  very 
quickly.  Here  is  a  kiss  for  you,  my  dear  child ;  I 
am  sure  that  when  we  meet  I  shall  find  you  all  very 
much  grown.  Keep  well  in  tlie  meantime.  Your 
portrait  is  in  my  room,  close  to  my  writing-table. 
There  is  a  place,  also,  for  Henriette's,  which  I  am 
now  expecting.  Portraits  are  not  «/o»,  my  dear 
children,  but  they  are  worth  having.  Yours  looks 
as  if  it  wanted  to  speak  to  me  !     "  Speak,  then  !  " 

'  Thank  you  for  promising  to  be  brave  if  neces- 


198  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

sary,  when  you  go  to  Brewster's.  I  hope  that  tliere 
will  be  no  occasion  for  it ;  but  I  repeat  what  you 
say,  "  loliatever  happens^''  you  will  be  courageous. 
You  understand  that  it  is  indispensable  that  your 
teeth  should  be  examined  before  you  go  into  the 
country.     I  shall  not  be  there  to  take  you  to  Caen. 

'  I  have  had  a  little  rest  from  dinner-parties ;  but 
they  are  beginning  again.  I  have  three  running  — 
to-morrow,  the  day  after,  and  Monday.  London, 
just  now,  is  like  an  ant-hill.  I  walked  all  through 
the  parks  to  the  Foreign  Office  yesterday.  It  is  the 
fashion  to  ride,  drive,  and  walk  in  Hyde  Park  from 
four  to  six  ;  a  Longcliamps  every  day.  I  walked  for 
more  than  half-an-hour  by  the  side  of  a  drive  com- 
pletely tilled  with  carriages  obliged  to  go  at  a  foot's- 
pace.  A  great  many  gentlemen  and  ladies  were  on 
horseback.  The  ladies,  here,  ride  a  great  deal,  and 
very  well.  It  takes  me  a  good  hour  to  walk  to  the 
Foreign  Office ;  but  it  is  a  channing  walk.' 

M.  Guizot  gave  his  children  a  share  in  the  new 
and  varied  interests  of  his  life  while  he  was  away 
from  them,  without,  however,  lessening  their  disap- 
pointment. They  were  too  young  to  appreciate  the 
politics,  but  some  of  his  descriptions  amused  them 
intensely.  On  reading  over  these  letters  after  an 
interval  of  forty  years,  we  found  whole  sentences 
and  paragraphs  which  had  remained  graven  on  our 
memories. 

'  1  wish  you  had  all  been  hidden  in  some  corner 
to  see  my  dinner  at  the  Lord  Mayor's — the  Mansion 
House,'  he  wrote  on  the  twenty-first  of  April ;   '  you 


EMBASSY    IN    ENGLAND.  199 

would  have  been  greatly  amused  for  at  least  a  quar- 
ter of  an  hour.  It  was  in  a  very  large  and  beautiful 
room,  called,  I  know  not  why,  the  Egyptian  Hall, 
supported  by  enormous  pillars,  and  ornamented  with 
all  sorts  of  banners  and  symbols  belonging  to  the 
City.  When  I  entered,  accompanied  by  the  Lord 
]\Iayor,  and  with  the  Lady  Mayoress  on  my  arm, 
there  were  already  350  people  at  the  table.  It  was 
very  dimly  lighted.  Tlie  moment  we  sat  down  the 
gas  was  turned  on,  and  the  hall  was  flooded  with 
light.  The  Lord  Mayor  and  the  Lady  Mayoress 
were  seated  on  two  raised  chairs  of  state,  under  a 
great  red  canopy :  I  was  next  to  the  Lady  Mayoress. 
A  magnificent  service  of  plate,  belonging  to  the  City, 
was  distributed  over  all  the  tables.  The  dinner  was 
long,  and  music,  which  was  not  bad,  went  on  all  the 
time.  Towards  the  end,  two  enormous  goblets,  filled 
with  wine,  were  brought  in  ;  the  trumpet  sounded, 
and  the  City  Herald  proclaimed  that  the  Lord  and 
Lady  j\Iayoress  drank  to  the  health  of  the  French 
Ambassador,  the  Bisliop  of  London,  and  all  the 
present  company  The  Lady  Mayoress  rose,  took 
one  of  the  cups  and  turned  towards  me  ;  I  rose  at 
the  same  time.  She  drank,  bowed,  and  passed  the 
cuj)  on  to  me ;  I  bowed  in  return,  turned  to  my  left- 
hand  neighbour,  drank  and  bowed,  and  presented 
her  with  the  cup  She  did  the  same  to  her  left-hand 
neighbour.  The  Lord  Mayor  was  performing  the 
same  ceremony  on  his  side ;  and  the  two  cups,  in  this 
way,  went  all  round  the  350  guests.  This  is  called 
the  "  Loving  Cup."    At  dessert,  two  immense  silver- 


200  MONSIEUR    GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

gilt  dishes  were  put  down  before  the  Lord  and  Lady 
Mayoress,  they  were  filled  with  rosewater,  and 
passed  round  the  high  table  only  (it  consisted  of 
fifty  people),  and  each  person  dipped  tlie  end  of  his 
napkin  in  the  rose-water  and  wiped  his  lips  and 
fingers.  Then  began  the  toasts  to  the  Queen,  Prince 
Albert,  the  Queen-Dowager,  and  the  Royal  Family, 
the  English  Army  and  Navy,  the  French  Ambas- 
sador, and  the  other  Foreign  Ministers.  I  was  the 
only  member  of  the  diplomatic  body  present.  I  rose 
and  replied  to  the  toast  in  a  little  English  speech, 
which  was,  I  cannot  tell  you  how  many  times,  inter- 
rupted and  cheered.  They  were  very  much  pleased, 
and  showed  their  pleasure  very  heartily.  Then  fol- 
lowed innumerable  toasts  and  compliments  to  me 
from  the  speakers.  The  ladies  retired,  according  to 
custom.  More  toasts.  At  length,  at  a  little  before 
eleven  o'clock,  we  left  the  dining-table,  and  went 
back  into  the  saloons,  where  the  ball  had  begun.  I 
reached  home  at  a  quarter  before  twelve. 

'The  Lord  Mayor's  name  is  Sir  Chapman  ]\far- 
shall,  and  he  looks  a  very  good  kind  of  man.  The 
Lady  Mayoress  is  his  daughter:  she  is  extremely 
pretty,  and  has  a  very  sweet  expression.  I  was 
asked  to  propose  a  toast  in  her  honour,  and  I 
did  so. 

*  One  o'clock. 

'  Here  are  some  capital  letters.  I  am  delighted 
with  them.  I  will  write  to-morrow  to  my  good  little 
Pauline.  I  expect  that  she  will  get  better  every  day. 
But  you  amuse  me  by  the  serious  way  in  which  you 


INTEREST    IN    VAL-RICnEK.  201 

speak  of  asses'  milk :  "I  hope  it  will  do  us  good." 
Do  you  want  anything  to  do  you  good  ?  You  are  a 
colossus.  I  am  very  glad  that  you  are  taking  asses' 
milk ;  it  is  very  wholesome,  but  it  is  a  luxmy  for  you. 

'  Farewell,  my  dear  childi-en.  I  say  farewell  with 
a  light  heart,  although  the  weather  is  dull.  All  the 
sun  we  have  had  lately  did  not  make  me  gay.  Yom- 
letters,  to-day,  are  worth  a  great  many  sims.  Good- 
bye. Here  are  three  kisses  each  for  you,  including 
grandmamma.' 

The  children  had  news  to  tell  on  their  side,  for 
Madame  Guizot  had  returned  to  her  smnmer  quarters 
at  Val- Richer.  M.  Guizot  took  an  increasing  interest 
in  all  the  arrangements  and  pleasm-es  appertaining 
to  his  coimtry  home. 

He  wrote  on  the  fifth  of  June  :  — 

'  So  you  ai-e  settled  at  Val-Richer ;  I  hope  that 
you  got  there  without  much  fatigue,  but  I  shall  not 
know  imtil  Monday,  for  the  letter  written  by  you 
this  moniing  from  Lisieux  will  take  another  day  to 
reach  me.  After  this  little  gap,  which  you  will  not 
feel,  our  con-espondence  will  be  as  regular  as  in 
Paris.  Every  morning  it  is  a  fresh  joy  to  me.  I 
cannot  understand  how  absence  can  be  borne  without 
letters.  Alas  !  how  many  sorrows  one  bears  in  this 
world  without  imderstanding-  them. 

'I  cannot  tell  you  how  glad  I  am  to  think  that 
my  children  are  living  in  the  open  air.  I  think  it  so 
good  for  them :  let  them  be  out  as  much  as  possible. 
Tliere  is  no  need  to  fear  that  their  intellectual  devel- 
opment will  not  be  sufficiently  rapid :    their  intel- 


202  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

lects  and  their  feelings  are  perhaps  more  precocious 
and  excitable  than  they  ought  to  be  at  their  age. 
I  do  not  complain  of  this,  but  they  ought  not  to  be 
stimulated.  Leisure,  exercise,  and  liberty,  are  what 
we  must  take  care  to  give  them,  and  when  they 
are  out  in  the  garden,  where  they  can  run  into  no 
danger,  let  them  do  what  they  please,  and  as  they 
please  —  sometimes  quite  alone,  superintended  only 
from  a  distance.  There  is  no  freedom  for  childi-eji 
if  they  ai'e  not  sometimes  alone,  left  entnely  to  them- 
selves. The  intervention,  even  the  presence,  of  a 
grown-up  person  when  they  are  at  play  takes  away 
from  the  spirit  and  carelessness  which  are  so  good 
for  them. 

'  Do  not  let  Henriette  read  Miclielet's  History  of 
the  Roman  Republic.  It  is  not  fit  for  her.  Not  one 
of  M.  Miclielet's  works  is  fit  for  children  —  not  even 
for  very  advanced  children  —  either  as  regards  in- 
struction or  morality.  The  fact  is,  these  works  are 
very  inaccurate,  and  the  deductions  they  draw  are 
those  of  an  ill-regulated,  though  honest  mind.  If 
Henriette  has  finished  the  Ancient  History,  let  her 
take  the  History  of  Rome,  by  RoUin,  or  the  one  by 
Lam-ent  Echard,  which  is  in  the  book-case  in  the 
corridor;  and  the  History  of  the  Emperors,  by  Crevier. 
We  will  settle  all  this  in  the  autumn.  She  tells  me 
that  she  is  reading  the  Lives  of  the  Latin  Poets.  She 
might  read  the  translation  of  the  ^neid.  Give  her 
also  the  translation  of  Jerusalem  Delivered ;  it  will 
interest  her  very  much,  and  the  impression  it  pro- 
duces is,  on  the  whole,  good.' 


INTEREST   IN   VAL-RICHER.  203 

On  the  ninth  of  June  he  writes  to  his  son,  who 
was  seven  years  old :  — 

'  My  dear  Guillaume,  —  You  were  so  busy  in 
Paris  that  you  did  not  write  long  letters.  Will 
you  have  as  much  to  do  at  \"al- Richer  ?  Perhaps 
more,  for  you  will  have  as  many  lessons  to  prepare, 
and  you  will  be  out  a  great  deal  more.  Go  out,  my 
child,  run  about,  plant  flowers,  play  with  the  water 
in  the  little  brook.  You  will  not  have  left  off  play- 
ing when  I  am  with  }'ou  again,  I  hope  "I  I  like  so 
nuich  seeing  you  at  play. 

'  I  am  delighted  that  you  think  the  new  road  and 
the  avenue  pretty.  I  am  expecting  the  particulars. 
Tell  me  how  many  trees  there  are  planted  along  our 
road,  from  the  point  where  it  makes  a  bend  in  the 
meadow  to  the  gate  of  our  courtyard.  And  also 
how  many  evergreens  there  are  in  the  clump  of 
trees  which  was  to  be  planted  to  the  right  in  the 
hollow,  just  where  the  road  turns  into  the  meadow. 

'  You  are  very  lucky  to  have  so  many  sti'awber- 
ries.  You  would  do  me  a  great  favour  if  you  could 
send  me  some.  They  are  very  scarce  here,  and 
very  dear  —  ever^-thing  that  is  scarce  is  dearer  than 
you  can  possibly  imagine.  I  had  peaches  at  my 
two  grand  dinners ;  they  cost  five  francs  a-piece. 

'  Good-bye,  my  dear  child.  I  leave  you  to  write 
a  despatch.  This  often  happens.  I  have  to  send 
off  a  messenger  this  evening.  At  Epsom,  the  other 
day,  after  the  races,  I  saw  I  cannot  tell  you  how 
many  pigeons  let  fly  to  carry  the  names  of  the  win- 
ning horses  into  the  different  counties.   They  reached 


204  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT    IN    PRIVATE   LIFE. 

the  other  end  of  England  in  a  few  minutes.  Could 
we  not  train  some  pigeons  to  fly  twice  a-day  be- 
tween Val-Richer  and  Hertford  House  ?  It  is  true 
that  our  pigeons  have  not  succeeded  very  well  at 
Val-Richer.' 

The  children  told  all  their  little  pleasures,  and 
counted  conscientiously  the  trees  in  the  avenue ; 
but  it  Avas  his  sister-in-law,  Madame  de  Meulan,  to 
whom  M.  Guizot  wrote  for  the  details  which  alone 
satisfied  him ;  it  was  she  who  had  the  charge  of  all 
the  new  arrangements.  Born  on  the  eve  of  the 
French  Revolution,  her  fortune  was  twice  destroyed. 
She  was  left  without  husband  or  children,  and  she 
devoted  herself  to  M.  Guizot  with  all  the  energy  of 
a  strong'  and  passionate  nature.  Endowed  at  the 
same  time  with  a  robust  temperament  and  talents 
of  the  utmost  refinement,  she  spent  all  her  time  and 
her  powers  in  embellishing  the  country  house,  the 
charge  of  which  she  had  formerly  shared  with 
Francois. 

Her  employments  were  as  numerous  as  they  were 
varied  —  painting,  sculpture,  and  embroidery  occu- 
pied her  in  turn,  and  at  the  same  time,  she  took  a 
lively  interest  in  the  political  negotiations  in  which 
M.  Guizot  was  eng-aged. 

'  I  wanted  to  write  you  both  yesterday  and  to- 
day, my  dear  Aline,'  M.  Guizot  wrote  on  the  twenty- 
sixth  of  July.  '  I  Avas  prevented  by  conferences 
and  despatches,  and  I  was  at  work  during  part 
of  the  night.  Things  are  going  on  very  badly  in 
the  East :  the  Pasha's  enemies  are  making  a  great 


intee:^st  in  val-richer.  205 

deal  out  of  tlie  insiu-rection  in  Syria,  and  if  he  does 
not  at  once  repress  it,  the  affair  will  turn  out  ill.  I 
never  thought  well  of  it,  and  I  kept  it  in  suspense  for 
five  months.  If  this  insurrection  had  not  occiu-red, 
it  would  still  be  in  suspense.  We  shall  see.  Al- 
though people  say  that  I  have  nothing  but  success 
here,  my  own  pretensions  are  not  so  great. 

'  To-day  I  give  my  dinner  to  the  Nemours ;  there 
will  be  thirty  people.  I  shall  have  quantities  of 
flowers  in  the  rooms ;  they  are  my  favourite  deco- 
ration. I  should  like  to  have  nnisic  during  dinner, 
and  a  little  evening  party  afterwards ;  but  it  is  Sun- 
day, and  therefore  this  cannot  be  done.  The  only 
dissipation  one  may  allow  oneself  on  Sunday  is  a 
dinner ;  and  the  Due  and  Duchesse  de  NemoTirs 
could  give  me  no  other  day.  They  leave  on  Tues- 
day for  Goodwood  races,  to  which  the  Duke  of 
Orleans  has  sent  two  of  his  horses  ;  and  from  Good- 
wood they  return  to  France. 

*  Speaking  of  flowers,  pray  sow  a  great  deal  of 
dittany ;  I  like  it,  and  I  like  an  abundance  of  the 
same  flower.  Those  that  prosper  most  in  England 
are  decidedly  the  geraniiuns ;  they  are  remarkable 
as  to  quantity  and  quality.  Try  also  to  collect  a 
great  many  sorts  of  lieath,  it  is  a  pretty  little  fam- 
ily, and  lasts  a  long  time  in  blossom. 

'  I  like  your  gold  and  silver  pheasants.  I  should 
like  to  liave  an  aviary,  we  Avill  some  day  have  one 
in  the  courtyard.  My  fear  is  lest  the  situation 
should  be  too  cold.  You  have  no  idea  what  pleas- 
ure it  will  give  me  to  see  the  avenue  and  the  court- 


206  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT    IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

yard  now  that  they  are  finished.  You  need  not '  be 
afraid.  I  went  the  other  day  to  Sion  House,  the 
residence  of  the  Duke  of  Northumberland,  one  of 
the  finest  places  in  England.  It  contains  a  blue 
and  golden  gallery,  like  the  Franqois  I.  gallery  at 
Fontainebleau ;  a  dining-room  supported  by  twelve 
of  the  finest  antique  pillars  in  the  world  —  they 
were  found  in  the  Tiber,  and  purchased  by  the 
grandfather  of  the  present  Duke.  There  are  green- 
houses like  those  at  the  Jardin  des  Plantes,  in  fact 
these  were  our  models.  All  round  the  house  are 
those  matchless  green  fields  of  England,  covered 
with  beautiful  sheep  and  cows,  all  as  clean  and  well 
cared  for  as  the  grass.  Yet  I  like  my  Val-Richer  a 
thousand  times  better.' 

'  April  29  th 

'  My  dear  Aline,  —  Your  two  panels  are  charm- 
ing. Do  not  take  the  trouble  of  sending  the  third, 
I  trust  entirely  to  you  ;  and  three  are  quite  variety 
enough.  I  am  particularly  curious  about  the  stone 
pedestal:  send  me  the  little  drawing  of  it,  which 
you  promised  me.  I  suppose  that  you  have  already 
set  to  work,  I  know  your  perseverance ;  you  have 
a  great  many  things  on  hand  just  now  —  the  banis- 
ters, my  armchair,  cai-pets  of  every  sort,  and  I  know 
not  what  else.  You  will  finish  all  these  things,  I 
know ;  so  I  thank  you  beforehand  as  if  they  were 
done  already.  Do  you  appreciate  the  confiding 
nature  of  this  speech  f 

'  Now  let  us  agree  in  our  views.  You  bought  the 
horse  "Henry"  for  1000  fr.;  if  he  be  a  good  one, 


INTEREST   IN   VAL-RICHER.  207 

as  there  seems  reason  to  believe,  I  am  not  sorry  for 
it.  You  are  to  make  the  hedges  round  the  future 
garden  both  quickset  and  evergreen.  Then  you 
must  lower  the  lawn  in  the  courtyard  ;  it  is  neces- 
sary for  the  sake  of  the  fountain  and  to  give  an  air 
of  finish.  But  you  must  stop  there,  and  not  go  a 
bit  farther  in  the  Val-Richer  improvements  this 
year.  We  have  already  done  an  enormous  deal, 
and  I  am  ruined.  Nothing  more  at  all.  Your  own 
work  —  the  banisters,  the  carpets  —  these  are  the 
last  victories  that  Val-Richer  will  gain  in  1840,  and 
it  will  have  gained  a  great  many. 

'  Likewise  I  do  not  wish  you  to  keep  Bradamante 
as  a  brood  mare;  it  is  clearly  a  losing  experiment,  we 
should  have  to  feed  the  mother  for  a  year  and  the 
foal  for  two  or  three  yeai's ;  he  would  not  be  worth 
what  he  would  cost  us.  We  do  not  want  another 
horse.  Sell  Bradamante,  if  only  for  lOOfr. ;  she  will 
have  served  us  well  for  three  years. 

'  You  had  better  caiTy  the  earth  which  is  taken 
away  from  the  com'tyard  down  towards  the  chestnut 
avenue,  in  order  to  support  it  and  to  make  a  slope. 

'  I  am  delighted  that  the  door  is  successful.  Is  it 
very  strong  ?  Does  it  look  so  1  For  I  cannot  bear 
anything  paltry.  In  all  things  the  appearance  of 
strength  is  good,  as  well  as  the  reality. 

'  I  was  so  clever  as  to  say  out  of  my  own  head, 
in  reply  to  Orbec,  that  I  had  long  been  engaged  to 
the  Cantons  of  St.  Pierre  and  Mezidon  in  the  event  of 
M.  Legrand's  resignation.  I  have  Avritten  this  to  M. 
Labbey  and  M.  Jeanne.    This  arrangement  suits  me 


208  MONSIEUR   6UIZ0T   IN    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

capitally.  I  suppose  that  M.  Legrand  will  resign 
after  the  session  of  the  Conseil-General.  I  will  then 
write  to  himself  In  the  meanwhile  M.  Labbey  will 
show  him  my  letter. 

'  You  are  right  in  your  opinion  of  M.  Labbey, 
he  is  full  of  noble  and  generous  impulses  ;  I  esteem 
him  as  much  as  I  like  him. 

'  I  am  kept  informed  of  all  that  is  being  said  in 
Paris.  I  do  not  disturb  myself  much  about  un- 
pleasant things,  even  when  they  are  said  by  old 
friends.  I  impute  many  of  them  to  thoughtless- 
ness—  the  great  fault,  and  at  the  same  time  the 
great  excuse,  of  us  mortals.  I  am  therefore  consid- 
erably indifferent,  and  not  at  all  angry.  Wlaen 
people  tried  to  wound  me  treacherously  I  defended 
myself  in  such  a  fashion  as  to  take  away,  for  some 
time,  any  inclination  on  their  part  to  begin  again. 
Rest  assured  that  my  conduct  during  the  last  six 
months  has  been  wise,  that  my  position  is  a  strong 
one,  and  pray  be  resigned  to  vicissitudes  and 
dangers.' 


VAL  KICHEK. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

1840. 

MADAME    GUIZOT LIFE   TS   ENGLAND. 

M.  GuizoT  was  on  the  eve  of  the  most  trying  years  in 
his  laborious  hfe ;  he  was,  however,  ah-eady  looking 
forward  to  the  peaceful  days  which  later  on  it  became 
God's  pleasure  to  bestow  on  him  at  Val- Richer. 

'  If  the  magnificent  sunshine,'  he  wrote  to  his 
mothei-,  '  which  floods  my  square  this  morning  ex- 
tends to  Val-Richer,  it  must  be  delightful.  I  am 
certainly  growing  old,  for  the  idea  of  retirement,  final 
retirement,  is  agreeable  to  me.  I  do  not  know  if  I 
shall  ever  enjoy  it.  Besides  the  domestic  reasons 
which  oblige  me  to  work,  I  feel  called,  impelled  by  my 
nature  to  action,  every  sort  of  action  which  circum- 
stances may  lay  upon  me.  What  one  can  do,  it  is 
one's  duty  to  do.  And  besides  feeling  that  it  is  my 
duty,  I  am  willing  and  eager  to  accept  and  seize  every 
opportunity  which  presents  itself,  from  an  impulse 
which  is  stronger  even  than  my  natural  inclination, 
and  which  shows  that  action  is  my  mission  ;  and 
therefore  I  shall  go  on,  straightforward,  as  far  and 
as  long  as  God  pleases.     But  I  hope  that  before  I 

14 


210  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

take  my  final  departiu*e  I  sliall  have  a  few  days  of 
rest,  absolute  rest.  It  rests  me  beforehand  to  think 
of  it' 

The  life  at  Val- Richer,  which  was  so  agreeable 
to  Madame  Guizot,  was  intensely  delightful  to  her 
grandcliildi-en,  not  only  on  account  of  the  freedom 
they  enjoyed,  but  also  for  the  sake  of  the  amusements 
which  she  shared  with  them.  This  noble  woman, 
whose  strong  soul  had  been  so  cruelly  tossed  in  early 
life  and  stricken  by  an  incurable  grief,  preserved  her 
taste  for  gardening,  for  all  the  cares  and  pleasures  of 
rural  life  :  even  her  peii:)etual  maternal  anxieties  did 
not  entu-ely  neutralise  the  healing  influence  of  this 
retreat,  she  unbent  and  rested  herself  at  Val- Richer, 
and  she  devoted  to  her  grandchildi-en — to  their  pleas- 
ures as  much  as  to  their  education — all  lier  improved 
health  and  spirits,  for  it  was  always  her  habit  to 
lavish  all  she  possessed  upon  those  she  loved.  Al- 
though she  was  at  first  slow  to  perceive  that  the 
children  she  had  brought  up  were  gi'owing  older 
every  year,  and  required  more  amusement  and  in- 
dependence, they  knew  well  the  tenderness  which 
was  hidden  beneath  her  strength  of  will,  and  time, 
as  it  went  on,  softened  without  enfeebling  her 
character. 

'■  You  have  no  idea  what  my  mother  was  when 
she  was  young,'  M.  Guizot  sometimes  would  say 
laughingly  to  his  childi'en. 

A  southern  temperament  with  its  hasty  and  pas- 
sionate impulses  was  allied,  in  Madame  Guizot,  to  a 
strong  persevering,  active  disposition,  penetrated  to 


MADAME   GUIZOT.  211 

the  very  marrow  with  the  doctrines  and  traditions 
of  which  the  old  Huguenot  character  was  the  out- 
come. 

The  sorrows  and  cares  which  darkened  her  life  did 
not,  however,  destroy  the  ground-work  of  natural 
gayety  which  now  and  then  came  to  the  surface. 
Another  taste  she  had  —  which  she  preserved  even  in 
extreme  old  age  —  the  taste  for  information  and  the 
intelligent  curiosity  about  all  sorts  of  subjects  wliich 
characterised  the  eighteenth  century ;  travels,  espe- 
cially descriptions  of  unknown  countries,  and  new 
facts  in  physical  or  moral  science  had  an  iiTCsistible 
attraction  for  her.  We  saw  her  once,  when  she  had 
become  very  deaf  and  very  feeble,  remain  standing 
for  two  hours,  leaning  against  the  mantelpiece,  ques- 
tioning and  listening  to  an  adventurous  explorer,  who 
had  just  travelled  across  South  America,  from  one 
ocean  to  the  other.  But  the  governing  principle 
with  her  was  a  really  heroic  passion  for  duty,  for 
every  duty,  small  or  great ;  an  absolute  and  steady 
devotion,  a  continual  endeavour  towards  pei'fection, 
which  she  inspired  in  others  by  her  example. 

Even  so,  with  all  these  contrasts  and  harmonies, 
does  the  figure  of  Madame  Guizot  rise  up  in  the 
memory  of  her  grandchildren,  now,  that  in  middle 
age,  they  look  back  with  the  most  affectionate  grati- 
tude to  those  days  of  their  infancy  which  were  full 
of  her  presence  and  influence. 

But  it  was  to  M.  Guizot  (and  their  grandmother 
encouraged  them)  that  these  young  minds  turned 
with  eager  love ;  it  was  to  him  that  tliey  confided 


212  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

every  imj^ression  and  interest.  I  will  quote  a  few 
passages  from  letters  which  will  prove  how  strong 
was  the  intimacy  between  the  father  and  children, 
even  when  they  were  separated,  and  how  constant 
was  the  solicitude  with  which  he  watched  over  their 
young  lives. 

'  You  are  very  right,  my  dear  child  ;  a  great  many 
good  qualities  are  wanting  in  you,  and  I  pray  God 
to  give  them  to  you ;  but  He  bestows  nothing  on 
those  who  do  not  try  to  deserve  His  gifts.    Our  own 
efforts  are  not  enough  to  make  us  as  good  as  it  is  our 
duty  to  become.     We  need  God's  help  at  every  in- 
stant; and  whenever  we  do  anything  that  is  right, 
if  we  acquire  some  new  virtue,  we  may  be  sure  that 
God  has  helped  us,  has  helped  us  much,  and  we  owe 
infinite  gratitude  to  Him  for  His  assistance.     But  it 
is  His  will  that  we  should  ourselves  work  out  our 
own  improvement.     God  bestows  His  help  in  aid  of 
our  endeavours,  to  reward  as  well  as  to  assist  them. 
When  God  created  man,  He  made  him  a  free  and  a 
reasonable  being,  that  is  to  say,  able  to  distinguish 
between  right  and  wrong,  and  to  choose  the  right. 
Liberty,  mj  dear  child,  is  the  power  of  choosing  the 
right ;  and  man  inherits  this  gi-eat  power  from  God 
Himself     This  is  what  constitutes  the  nobility  of 
man's  nature.      But  as  man,    while  he  is  free  and 
reasonable,  is  yet  very  imperfect  and  very  weak,  he 
needs,  at  every  moment,  the  goodness  and  grace  of 
God   to  assist  his  weakness  and   to   help    him    to 
struggle  with  his  imperfections.    Alas  !  it  is  a  never- 
endinsf  struffofle. 


LIFE   IN   ENGLAND.  213 

•  One  of  tlie  things  which  I  regret  most  bitterly, 
my  dear  cliild,  is,  that  when  I  am  so  far  from  you  I 
cannot  talk  to  you  about  all  that  interests  you, 
especially  when  your  thoughts  turn  upon  such  serious 
subjects.  Always  tell  me  whenever  they  do  so  ;  our 
separation  would  be  intolerable  were  I  not  convinced 
that  I  shall  know  every  important  thought  that  passes 
through  your  mind,  and  were  I  not  able  to  give  you 
my  opinion  in  return. 

'  I  went  yesterday  evening  to  the  House  of 
Commons,  and  came  back  at  one  in  the  morning. 
Tliere  was  a  very  interesting  debate  on  the  Irish 
elections.  You  must  always  take  an  interest  in  Ire- 
land, my  child.  Your  mother  always  did,  it  was 
the  cradle  of  her  family.  I  meet  a  great  many  rela- 
tions of  yours  here.  One  hundred  and  fifty  years 
ago,  your  grandfather's  family  quitted  England  in 
the  suite  of  James  II.  and  took  refuge  in  France, 
Spain,  and  Italy.  They  ran  away  from  England 
because  they  were  Catholics.  Almost  at  the  same 
time,  the  Protestants  were  running  away  from 
France.  A  Protestant  now  represents  France  at 
the  court  of  St.  James,  and  he  finds  a  great  many 
Catholics  in  the  very  House  of  Commons  which 
tm-ned  them  out  150  years  ago.  All  this,  my  child, 
is  the  result  of  intellectual  progress,  and  a  better 
appreciation  of  religious  tnith.  If  we  were  sud- 
denly taken  back  to  the  state  in  which  Europe  was 
two  centuries  ago,  we  could  not  even  endure  the 
sight  of  so  much  misery  and  injustice.  This  is  a 
reason  for  deep  gratitude  to  God,  who  has  caused 


214  MONSIEUR   6UIZ0T   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

US  to  be  bom  in  a  just  and  temperate  age,  and  also 
for  great  patience  with  its  sufferings  and  imperfec- 
tions —  still  very  considerable  —  which  continue  to 
try  us.  There  will  always  be  these  imperfections  in 
our  lives  and  in  the  world.  God  allows  nothing  to 
be  perfect,  or  even  nearly  perfect,  and  this  is  one  of 
the  proofs  that  this  world  is  only  a  world  of  passage, 
a  beginning  of  our  career,  and  that  the  goal  of  our 
efforts  is  beyond  it.  But  we  ought,  nevertheless,  to 
enjoy  all  the  happiness  which  is  gi-anted  to  us,  and 
to  thank  God  that  our  portion  is  so  much  larger 
than  was  that  of  our  predecessors. 

'  Do  you  know,  my  child,  why  one  is  so  conceited 
when  one  is  young  I  It  is  because  one  does  not  yet 
know  how  great  and  how  difficult  are  the  objects  of 
one's  endeavors.  One  feels  oneself  to  be  strong, 
brave,  and  intelligent,  and  as  one  has  not  yet  tried 
one's  powers  one  thinks  that  they  are  equal  to  any- 
thing. Look  at  this  man ;  he  lives  in  a  little  valley 
at  the  foot  of  a  mountain,  before  his  eyes  are  only 
a  narrow  space  and  near  objects.  He  can  see  them 
perfectly,  nothing  escapes  him,  and  he  says  to  him- 
self, "  I  have  excellent  eyes ;  I  can  see  all  I  want 
to  see."  He  begins  to  ascend  the  mountain ;  as  he 
goes  higher  the  space  widens,  he  discovers  objects 
farther  off,  he  can  still  see  them  clearly,  and  he  con- 
tinues to  pride  himself  on  his  powers ;  he  goes 
higher  and  higher,  and  the  horizon  grows  wider  and 
wider,  and  his  sight  becomes  less  clear;  he  tries  in 
vain  to  see  over  this  vast  country,  and  to  distinguish 
these  multiplied  and  distant    objects;    many  look 


LIFE    IN    ENGLAND.  215 

confused,  or  escape  him  altogether;  and  when  he 
lias  reached  the  top  of  the  mountain  and  sees  before 
him  an  immense  space  and  all  that  is  crowded  into 
it,  he  acknowledges  that  his  eyes  cannot  reach  so  far, 
or  take  in  so  many  things.  At  the  very  moment, 
therefore,  when  he  has  attained  the  highest  eminence 
and  has  tried  his  eyes  to  the  utmost,  he  most  feels 
his  weakness,  and  is  content  to  lay  down  his  pride 
,in  the  presence  of  God.  Our  intellect,  and  all  our 
faculties,  my  dear  child,  are  like  our  eyes ;  the 
movmtain  we  have  to  climb  is  life,  and  its  experience 
makes  us  feel  and  own  our  insufficiency  more  and 
more  with  every  step  of  advancement  and  improve- 
ment. If  we  were  perfectly  wise  we  should  know 
beforehand,  and  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  all 
that  we  should  see  when  we  reached  the  top.  This 
is  impossible,  and  it  is  absurd  to  expect  childi-en  to 
be  as  wise  and  as  prudent  as  men  are.  But  you  are 
clever  and  wise  enough,  dear  Henriette,  to  under- 
stand clearly  that  neither  your  cleverness  nor  your 
wisdom  are  as  perfect,  as  unerring,  as  you  imagine 
them  to  be.  All  I  ask  is,  that  you  should  not  trust 
to  them  presumptuously,  that  you  should  acknoAvl- 
edge  beforehand  that  there  are  a  great  many  things 
which  escape  your  view,  and  that  the  moment  when 
you  will  see  from  the  highest  point,  and  over  the 
largest  extent,  will  be  exactly  the  one  in  which  you 
will  be  most  sensible  of  yom-  insufficiency  and  niost 
inclined  to  modesty.' 

Again,  on  the  twenty-second  of  June,  to  his  sec- 
ond daughter :  — 


216  MONSIEUR    GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

'  My  dear  Pauline,  —  Here  is  another  kiss  to- 
day, for  your  bii-tliday.  This  day  nine  years  your 
mother  was  lying  in  bed,  near  the  window,  in  my 
Httle  room,  in  the  street  La  Ville-F^veque,  very  tired 
but  very  happy,  and  I,  too,  was  very  happy.  My 
dear  child,  you  cannot  remember  your  mother ;  but 
you  should  think  often  of  her.  We  can  never  think 
enough  of  those  who  loved  us  so  much  and  who  are 
no  longer  with  us.  "  Not  lost,  but  gone  before."  Is 
not  this  true,  my  dear  little  one  ? 

'  You  are  right'  in  wishing  to  train  your  mind 
yourself;  you  can  do  so,  for  you  have  an  excellent 
heart  and  understanding;  you  know  quite  well 
when  you  have  done  wrong,  and  you  never  want  to 
vex  those  you  love.  What  I  advise,  my  dear  child, 
is  that  you  should  not  always  give  way  to  your  first 
impulses ;  that  you  should  try  to  put  a  little  more 
equanimity  into  your  character  and  temper.  Life, 
dear,  is  full  of  contrasts,  of  good  and  evil,  great  joys 
and  great  son-ows,  of  many  little  troubles,  and  many 
little  pleasures.  If  our  minds  were  as  uneven  as  om- 
fortunes,  we  should  soon  be  tired  and  broken  down, 
and  a  burden  to  our  friends  and  to  ourselves.  When 
you  are  at  Trouville,  you  will  see  ships  tossed  by 
the  sea,  driven  by  winds  and  waves  hither  and 
thither,  to  the  right  and  to  the  left.  What  would 
happen,  dear  child,  if  there  were  no  pilot  to  steer 
the  ship  througli  all  these  oscillations  and  dangers  ? 
She  would  soon  founder  or  fall  in  pieces ;  but  the 
pilot  governs  the  ship  while  he  prays  to  God  who 
governs  the  sea.  And  the  ship  sails  on  her  way  and 
generally  reaches  the  haven.     This  is  a  tj-pe  of  om- 


LIFE   IN   ENGLAND.  217 

condition  in  this  world  ;  we  have  to  govern  our  own 
inclinations  while  we  constantly,  and  with  a  firm 
faith,  invoke  God's  help  and  protection,  and  try  to 
preserve  our  presence  of  mind,  our  corn-age,  our  vigi- 
lance, and  our  serenity,  through  all  the  difficulties, 
perils,  and  vicissitudes  with  which  our  course  is  beset. 
I  hope,  dear  Pauline,  that  God  will  permit  me  to  re- 
main with  you  all  long  enough  to  help  you  during 
your  apprenticesliip  to  life,  and  to  teach  you  how 
to  help  yourselves. 

'From  what  Henriette  tells  me  I  see  that  you  have 
received  some  very  pretty  presents.  This  increases 
my  regret  that  I  was  not  with  you.  You  must  spend 
the  five  francs  which  I  have  asked  grandmamma  to 
give  you,  on  something  you  want,  while  waiting  for 
the  present  I  intend  to  bring  you. 

'  I  had  two  adventui-es  at  Windsor.  The  first  was 
winning  the  sweepstakes  at  Ascot.  Every  one  who 
accompanies  the  Queen  puts  in  a  sovereign  and  draws 
a  ticket  with  the  name  of  one  of  the  horses  that  are 
going  to  run.  I  drew  "Scutari,"  and  "Scutari  "won 
the  principal  race.  Twenty-three  sovereigns  for  me, 
which  will  balance  the  twenty  pounds  I  had  to  spend 
in  fees  to  the  servants  at  Windsor  Castle. 

'  Here  is  my  second  adventure ;  it  will  make  you 
laugh,  but  pray  do  not  laugli  at  it  before  company,  as 
it  might  find  its  way  into  some  newspaper,  whicli 
would  annoy  me.  On  Wednesday  evening,  at  Wind- 
sor, the  Queen  retired  at  eleven  o'clock;  we  stayed 
beliind,  talking  for  half-an-hour.  At  midnight,  I  set 
out  to  find  my  own  apartment,  and  I  lose  myself 
in  the  galleries,  saloons,  and  corridors.     At  last  I 


218  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

slowly  open  a  door,  taking  it  for  mine,  and  I  see  a 
lady  beginning  to  undi'ess,  attended  by  her  maid. 
I  shut  the  door  as  fast  as  I  can,  and  begrin  asrain  to 
search  for  my  own  room.  I,  at  last,  find  some  one 
who  shows  me  the  way.  I  go  to  bed.  The  next 
day,  at  dinner,  the  Queen  said  to  me,  laughingly, 
"  Do  you  know  that  you  entered  my  room  at  mid- 
night?" "  How,  ma'am;  was  it  your  Majesty's  door 
that  I  half  opened  1 "  "  Certainly."  And  she  began 
laughing  again,  and  so  did  I. 

'  I  told  her  of  my  perplexity,  which  she  had 
already  guessed  ;  and  I  asked  whether  if,  like  St. 
Simon  or  Sully,  I  should  ever  write  my  memoirs, 
she  would  allow  me  to  mention  that  I  had  opened  the 
Queen  of  England's  door  in  Windsor  Castle  at  mid- 
night while  she  was  going  to  bed.  She  gave  me 
permission,  and  laughed  heartily.' 

He  wrote  the  descrijition  of  Windsor  Castle  to  his 
son :  — 

'  I  write  to  you  from  Windsor,  my  dear  Guillaume. 
It  certainly  is  one  of  the  most  delightful  and  pictu- 
resque castles  in  the  world ;  its  exterior  is  a  Gothic 
fortress  of  the  Middle  Ages,  the  interior  is  a  very 
elegant  and  comfortable  modern  palace.  I  arrived 
yesterday,  two  hours  before  dinner ;  I  dressed,  and  at 
a  quarter  before  eight  I  went  into  the  drawing-room 
through  a  long,  very  long,  gallery,  full  of  busts  and 
pictures,  not  very  wide  or  very  high,  the  ceiling  grey 
and  gold,  with  sculptured  compartments.  There  is 
nothing  very  remarkable  in  the  drawing-rooms  ex- 
cept the  view,  which  extends  over  the  park  and  the 
countr}^ ;  both  were  as  green  as  possible.     We  then 


IS 

<) 

o 

a 
o 

a 
z 


LIFE   IN    ENGLAND.  219 

went  into  dinner.  The  dining-room  is  splendid  — 
enormous ;  150  people  can  dine  in  it.  There  were 
nearly  eighty  of  us,  all  English  except  myself.  The 
ceiling  is  of  old  sculptured  oak,  divided  into  compart- 
ments, and  in  each  compartment  are  painted  the  arms 
of  a  Knight  of  the  Garter.  Tlie  arms  of  every  one 
who  has  been  a  Knight  of  the  Garter  are  there  from 
the  beginning  until  now.  Over  my  head  was  No. 
352,  and  I  sat  in  about  the  middle  of  the  room.  The 
walls  are  hung  all  round  with  steel  armour  —  helmets, 
lances,  cuirasses,  and  swords.  At  each  end  is  a 
gallery,  one  for  music  and  the  other  for  spectators  ; 
on  the  table,  and  on  a  huge  sideboard  at  the  end  of 
the  table,  the  most  splendid  service  of  silver-gilt  i)late. 
On  my  left  sat  the  young  Queen,  whom  they  tried  to 
assassinate  the  other  day,  in  gay  spirits,  talking  a 
great  deal,  laughing  very  often  and  longing  to  laugh 
still  more ;  and  filling  with  her  gaiety,  which  con- 
trasted with  the  already  tragical  elements  in  her 
history,  this  ancient  castle  which  has  witnessed  the 
career  of  all  her  predecessors.  It  was  all  very  grand, 
very  beautiful,  very  striking.  I  talk  to  you,  my 
little  boy,  as  if  you  were  grown  up. 

'  I  have  nothing  pretty  to  tell  you.  I  am  very 
busy  ;  busy  about  things  you  do  not  care  for  :  you 
will  care  for  them  some  day.  I  hope  that  in  your 
time  affairs  will  be  a  little  less  complicated  than  they 
are  in  mine,  they  will  always  be  intricate  enough. 
We  are  not  put  into  this  world  only  for  our  own 
pleasure  and  comfort:  there  is  trouble  to  be  taken, 
there  are  great  annoyances  and  great  soitows  to  be 
borne.     You  will  have  your  share,  my  child.     God 


220  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

grant  that  the  burden  may  be  light !  Yoxir  life 
is  very  easy  at  present,  I  hope  that  it  will  long 
remain  so.  You  are  surrounded  only  by  people 
who  love  you  and  try  to  do  everything  to  please 
you.  It  is  a  great  happiness  that  you  have  two 
good  sisters  whose  advice  and  friendship  will  be 
yours  through  life.  I  pray  God  always  to  preserve 
them  for  you.  He  has  taken  from  you  a  charming, 
excellent  brother,  who  Avould  have  been  a  second 
father  to  you.  You  will  never  know  how  much  you 
have  lost ;  this  is  one  of  my  greatest  sorrows.  I 
wish  that  the  whole  world  could  know  what  my  dear 
FrauQois  was,  and  what  he  would  have  become.  I 
shall  often  talk  to  you  of  him,  my  dear  little  boy.' 

M.  Guizot's  mother  and  chikh'en  were  established 
at  Trouville  in  a  jwetty  little  house,  which  they  de- 
scribed in  their  letters  as  carefuUv  as  their  father 
described  for  them  Windsor  Castle.  They  were  out 
a  great  deal  on  the  sea-shore ;  and  they  did  a  few 
lessons,  for  Madame  Guizot  did  not  approve  of  holi- 
days. 

'  Thank  you  both  for  your  English  letters,'  M. 
Guizot  wrote  to  his  daughters ;  '  they  are  well  ex- 
pressed, and  have  very  few  faults.  I  shall  be  very 
glad  if  you  become  thoroughly  well  acquainted  with 
the  language,  history,  and  literature  of  England.  I 
have  always  studied  them  a  great  deal,  and  every 
day  they  interest  me  more  and  more.  The  English 
are  a  great  and  an  honest  nation.  They  have  many 
faults  and  deficiencies,  but  the  great  qualities  — 
morality,  sincerity,  dignity,  energy,  and  perseverance 
—  predominate.' 


LIFE    IN    ENGLAND.  221 

'  The  more  I  see  of  England  tlie  more  I  respect 
her.  She  does  not  know  how  to  make  her  virtue 
attractive  and  agreeable  to  other  people.  She  is 
haughty,  reserved,  and  somewhat  hard,  although  she 
has  a  great  fund  of  benevolence.  It  is  impossible, 
however,  not  to  be  a  little  under  the  charm  of  one's 
personal  impressions ;  and  I  am  touched,  very  much 
touched,  by  my  reception  here,  by  the  kindness  and 
respect,  almost  the  affection  which  is  shown  me  by 
persons  of  all  classes  and  every  shade  of  opinion.  If 
I  had  you  here,  my  childi-en  —  you  and  your  grand- 
mother —  I  should  be  quite  happy,  but  I  miss  you 
exceedingly ;  however,  we  shall  soon  meet. 

'  There  is  one  thing  I  should  like  for  you,  dear 
Henriette ;  it  is  that  you  should  accustom  yourself 
to  read  long  books ;  not  so  as  to  tire  yourself  each 
day,  but  you  must  read  a  little  every  day  of  some 
long  work ;  and  you  must  finish  the  whole  of  it. 
There  is  a  great  deal  more  benefit  in  reading  one 
long  work  than  in  skipping  over  twenty.  You  are 
not  able  to  read  long  English  books  while  you  are 
at  Trouville  ;  but  this  is  what  I  should  like  you,  my 
dear  child,  to  do  when  you  return  to  Val-Richer. 
Either  in  my  study  or  in  the  gallery  you  will  find 
Lingard's  History  of  Enfjland,  I  should  like  you  to 
read  that  and  Hume  at  the  same  time.  Choose  a 
period ;  for  instance,  the  History  of  the  Anglo-Saxon 
Kings  up  to  the  Conquest  of  England  by  the  Nor- 
mans. Read  it  first  in  Hume,  then  put  Hume  on  one 
side  and  read  the  same  period  in  Lingard,  and  so  on 
to  the  end.  When  you  have  read  these  two  works 
slowlv  and  simultaneously  in    this  way,  you  will 


222  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT    IN    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

begin  to  know  something  of  the   History  of  Eng- 
land. 

'  If  it  would  not  frighten  Pauline  she  mio-ht  un- 
dertake  the  same  course  of  reading.  But  I  am  afraid 
that  she  would  find  it  very  long,  and  I  do  not  wish 
her  to  tire  herself.' 

The  comphcations  of  the  Eastern  Question  pre- 
vented M.  Guizot  from  making  liis  proposed  visit  to 
France ;  he  continued,  nevertheless,  to  hope  to  do 
so.     He  wrote  on  the  third  of  August :  — 

'  My  dear  Henriette,  this  letter  will  reach  Trou- 
ville  on  the  sixth.  No  one,  I  think,  will  consider  it 
wrong  in  me  to  write  only  to  you  on  your  birthday. 
I  have  sent  to  you,  through  another  channel,  a  little 
parcel  which  will  arrive  on  the  same  day,  containing 
other  parcels  which  you  will  distribute,  or  rather 
which  you  will  have  distributed  before  you  receive 
this  letter.  When  I  am  away  from  you,  my  dear 
children,  the  greatest  pleasure  I  can  have  is  in  giv- 
ing you  little  pleasures,  until  I  take  you  a  great 
pleasure  by  taking  myself. 

'  It  is  not  the  first  time,  my  dear  child,  that  I  have 
been  away  from  you  on  the  sixth  of  August,  and  the 
older  you  grow,  the  more  I  regret  it.  Eleven  years 
old  !  why,  it  is  a  lifetime  !  May  your  life  be  a 
happy  one !  I  dare  not  hope  that  you  will  escape 
soiTow,  even  great  soitow  :  God  does  not  grant  this 
to  us,  and  we  have  no  right  to  expect  it.  But  may 
you  have  few  cruel  trials,  and  may  you  have  a  deep, 
true,  and  lasting  source  of  happiness  which  will  help 
you  to  bear  them.  I  hope  that  you  have  the  ele- 
ments of  happiness  in  yourself —  good  temper,  good 


LIFE    IN    ENGLAND.  223 

sense,  courage,  vmselfishness  —  not  too  sanguine  ex- 
pectations from  man,  but  a  full  confidence  in  God. 
This,  dear  child,  was  your  mother's  character ;  you 
resemble  her  in  many  ways  ;  you  will  have  to  make 
great  efforts  in  order  to  be  like  her  in  all.  May  God 
help  you  to  become  so !  I  desire  this  earnestly, 
both  for  your  sake  and  for  my  own  :  it  gives  me 
inexpressible  pleasm'e  to  trace  her  likeness  in  you.' 

A  few  days  later,  at  the  door  of  a  little  house  at 
Trouville,  three  childi'en  —  almost  out  of  their  senses 
with  joy  —  saw  their  father  start  up  in  his  carriage, 
ten-ified  by  the  danger  his  poor  little  ones  ran  of 
being  crushed  by  his  horses  at  this  long-wished-for 
moment  of  reunion.  Only  two  days  could  be  given 
to  Trouville ;  the  King,  the  Chateau  d'Eu,  and  poli- 
tics ui-ged  their  claims,  but  the  father  had  seen  his 
children  again,  the  mother  her  son,  the  children 
their  father,  and  each  felt  more  able  to  endure  with 
courage  another  separation. 

'  The  only  rest  I  had  was  at  Trouville,'  M.  Guizot 
writes  from  Calais  on  the  fifteenth  of  August ;  '  what 
with  politics  and  what  with  etiquette  one  never  has 
any  rest  at  Court.  But  wnth  you,  my  dear  children, 
talking  witli  you  and  looking  at  you  bathing  in  the 
sea,  my  rest,  both  of  mind  and  body,  was  perfect. 
This  is  the  sort  of  rest  I  look  forward  to  when  I 
grow  old.  The  present  is  not  a  time  to  think  of 
retirement ;  we  must  give  our  thoughts  just  now  to 
what  we  can  do  for  our  country.  Do  not  you,  my 
dear  Henriette,  love  France,  and  see  that  we  are 
bound  to  do  all  we  can  for  her  1 ' 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

1840-46. 

EETUEN  TO  FRANCE HE  ACCEPTS  THE  FOREIGN 

OFFICE. 

The  time  was  at  hand  when  it  became  more  than 
ever  M.  Guizot's  duty  to  devote  all  his  mind  and 
intellectual  energies  to  the  service  of  France.  In  the 
midst  of  the  agitation  which  extended  over  Eiu-ope, 
he  preserved  the  irrepressible  hopefulness  which  was 
one  of  his  elements  of  strength  ;  in  public  life  it  never 
forsook  him.  In  his  inmost  heart  and  in  his  private 
concerns  he  was  more  inclined  to  anxiety  than  to 
confidence  ;  the  trials  and  sufferings  which  he  and 
his  family  had  gone  through  were  to-:^  gi-eat  not  to 
have  left  ineffaceable  traces  behind  them. 

On  the  tenth  of  October,  he  wrote  to  Madame 
Guizot : 

'  Dear  Mother,  —  Among  the  many  motives 
which  make  me  deeply  regret  not  having  been  with 
you  on  the  fourth  of  October  one  of  the  most  m-gent 
was  my  anxiety  to  express  to  you  on  that  day,  more 
than  on  any  other,  all  my  love  and  my  gratitude. 
What  do  I  not  owe  to  you  ?  All  you  did  for  me  as  a 
fatherless  child  you  are  now  doing  for  my  motherless 


RETURN   TO    FRANCE.  225 

cliildi'en.  There  are  in  you  two  qualities  which  are 
inexhaustible,  courage  and  affection.  You  bore  your 
own  trials  without  breaking  down,  you  are  now  help- 
ing me  to  bear  mine.  Tlianks  to  you,  I  am  able, 
without  failing  in  my  duty  to  my  children,  without 
being  distracted  by  anxiety  about  them,  to  fulfil  other 
duties  and  to  render  my  life  as  valuable  as  God  has, 
in  all  probability,  destined  that  it  should  be.  Dear 
mother,  always  and  in  all  things,  you  have  helped  me, 
and  you  still  help  me.  You  do  not  know  all  the 
tenderness,  respect,  and  gratitude  I  feel  for  you  in 
my  heart.  May  God  preserve  you  a  long  time  —  a 
very  long  time  for  me  and  my  children.  I  cannot 
now  tell  you  Avith  what  lively  pleasure  I  see  their 
fondness  for  you  ;  may  God  permit  you  long  to  en- 
jov  it !  It  used  to  be  an  intense  satisfaction  to  me  to 
watch  the  care  that  my  dear  son  took  of  you,  to  see 
how  pleased  he  was  to  be  with  you  and  to  bring  out 
for  you  all  the  resources  of  his  excellent  and  charm- 
ing disposition.  I  used  to  fancy  that  he  was  paying 
you  back  a  part  of  my  debt,  and  I  loved  him  all  the 
better  for  it.  Oh,  what  a  wound,  dear  mother  !  Avhat 
an  incurable  wound !  I  cannot  touch  it  without  being 
inwardly  overcome  with  grief  Such  an  exquisite, 
loveable  nature  !  so  gentle  and  so  full  of  promise ! 
My  confidence  in  him  set  my  mind  completely  at  rest. 
I  should  have  left  everything  to  him,  I  should  have 
entrusted  to  him  you,  my  children,  my  home,  my 
memory,  every  dear  recollection,  every  favourite 
plan  for  the  future  —  all,  absolutely  all,  with  the 
most  perfect  security  !    And  it  made  me  so  happy  to 

15 


226  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT    IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

prepare  bis  life,  his  career,  his  position  !  He  would 
have  so  thoroughly  enjoyed  it,  he  would  have  filled 
it  so  honourably,  for  himself  as  well  as  for  me.  He 
was  the  complement  of  my  life  and  he  perpetuated 
his  mother's  existence.  Dear  child !  I  think  I  see 
him  now,  bis  noble,  tender,  and  refined  countenance ! 
but  he  himself,  alas  !  ...  I  do  not  ask  God  to  con- 
sole me,  I  ought  not  to  be  consoled,  we  are  consoled 
only  too  soon,  we  forget  too  soon.  And  I  do  not 
murmur  or  revolt,  but  my  heart  was  pierced  through 
and  tlu-ough,  and  everything  renews  the  soreness  of 
my  wound !  May  God  protect  my  children  !  May 
God  preserve  my  children  !  and  as  well  as  them, 
with  them,  you,  for  their  and  my  sake.  God  knows 
that  I  am  not  ungrateful !  I  know,  I  feel  all  the 
hope  and  happiness  they  will  one  day  afford  me.  I 
wish  they  could  know  how  much  I  love  them ;  this 
is  what  one  never  can  know.  True  love  is  always 
much  greater  than  its  object  has  any  idea  of. 

'  Let  us  speak  of  other  things ;  it  does  not  do  to 
allow  oneself  to  be  too  much  moved  when  one  is  so 
far  off. 

'  We  are  in  a  very  anxious  crisis.  In  the  begin- 
ning thei'e  was  much  carelessness  and  presvunption  on 
all  sides.  There  are  now  obstinate  misunderstand- 
ings and  mutual  embarrassments ;  nevertheless  there 
is  a  sincere  desire  to  avoid  an  explosion,  and  no  ill- 
will  on  the  part  of  England  against  France,  or  on 
that  of  the  English  Government  against  the  French 
Government.  Therefore  I  do  not  despair.  We  shall 
come  out  of  this  crisis  hurt  and  wounded ;  but  we 


RETURN    TO    FRANCE.  227 

shall,  I  think,  recover  from  it.  I  expected  to  have 
received  a  messenger  to-day,  who  would  liave  brought 
me  news  of  the  meeting  of  the  Chamber,  and  the 
authorization  to  take  some  step  in  this  affair.  Time 
passes,  and  he  does  not  coine.  I  nmst  wait  a  little 
longer.' 

'  Two  d clock. 

'  I  missed  your  letter  this  morning,  and  yet  I 
received  several  from  Paris.  There  is  again  some 
mistake  or  delay,  such  as  has  already  happened  two 
or  tlu'ee  times.  I  remind  myself  of  these  instances 
that  I  may  not  be  anxious.  Good-b)^e,  dear  mother. 
Affectionate  kisses  for  you  all.' 

M.  Guizot  intended  to  come  to  Paris  for  the  open- 
ing of  the  Chambers.  Some  of  liis  friends  pressed 
him  to  delay  his  visit  on  account  of  the  difficulties 
of  the  situation.  On  the  twentieth,  he  wrote  to  the 
Due  de  Broglie  :  — 

'  I  have  thought  it  well  over.  I  shall  start  from 
here  on  the  twenty-fifth,  go  round  to  take  up  my 
mother  and  children  in  Normandy,  and  arrive  in 
Paris  on  the  night  of  the  twenty-eighth,  or  on  tlie 
following  morning.  One  must  not  show  anxiety 
when  one  has  no  cause  for  it. 

'  I  want  nothing  in  London ;  I  seek  nothing  in 
Paris.  Here,  as  well  as  there,  I  shall  mix  in  no  in- 
trigue. I  shall  neither  say  nor  do  anything  which  is 
not  in  perfect  harmony  with  all  that  I  have  said  and 
done  for  the  last  eight  months.  I  jiromised  my  sup- 
port to  the  Cabinet  without  entering  it ;  this  is  what 
I  liave  done  and  what  I  shall  do.     Why  should  I 


228  MONSIEUR    GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

g-ive  an  appearance  of  hesitation  and  constraint  to 
my  conduct  I  I  am  a  Deputy  in  the  first  place,  and 
an  Ambassador  in  the  second.  I  think  more  of 
my  duties  as  a  deputy  than  of  my  duties  as  ambas- 
sador. As  a  Deputy,  I  shall  act  in  accordance  witli 
my  judgment,  my  past  conduct,  and  my  honour  :  as 
an  Ambassador,  I  shall  speak  in  harmony  with  all 
I  have  thought,  written,  done,  or  agi-eed  to  since  I 
have  held  this  post.  I  think  all  this  perfectly  com- 
patible.    I  have,  myself,  not  the  slightest  hesitation.' 

While  M.  Guizot  was  writing  these  words,  the 
King  refused  the  draft  of  the  Speech  prepared  for 
liim  by  his  Ministers  ;  the  Cabinet  of  the  twentieth 
of  May  resigned,  the  King  recalled  M.  Guizot  to 
Paris  and  entrusted  him  with  the  formation  of  a 
Ministry. 

He  started  at  once,  before  he  had  time  to  tell  liis 
family,  for  whose  removal  to  Paris  he  made  some 
hasty  arrangements.  The  packet  by  which  M.  de 
Banneville,  a  young  attache  for  whom  M.  Guizot  had 
a  great  friendship,  sailed,  foundered  tlirough  a  colli- 
sion with  an  English  steamer.  Madame  Guizot  was 
extremely  anxious.  As  soon  as  she  heard  of  the 
accident,  she  set  out,  without  waiting  for  any  in- 
structions, in  a  little  carnage  of  the  country,  with 
the  children.  Just  as  she  was  starting,  she  received 
this  letter,  written  on  the  twenty-seventh,  from  her 
son :  — 

'  I  have  this  instant,  dear  mother,  received  M.  de 
Banneville's  letter  telling-  me  of  the  loss  of  the 
Phoenix.     Thank  God,  no  one  was  di'owned  !     The 


HE   ACCEPTS    THE   FOREIGN    OFFICE.  229 

poor  young  fellow  I  sent  in  my  place  is  safely  at 
home  with  his  parents.  This  news  has  agitated  me 
very  much.  Yesterday  must  have  been  a  day  of 
terrible  anxiety  for  you.  You  will  probably  see 
Banneville  to-day  at  Val- Richer,  and  this  will  delay 
your  journey  for  at  least  a  day.  What  a  dreadful 
accident !  How  impatient  I  am  to  have  you  all  here 
with  me  !  My  large  carriage,  and  everything  it  con- 
tained, are  lost ;  and  everything,  too,  belonging  to 
poor  Herbet.  Fortunately  I  had  every  one  of  my 
papers  with  me.  We  must  continue  to  thank  God 
that  no  one  was  di'owned.  But  how  I  long  for  you ! 
Come  quickly.     Kisses  to  you  all.' 

At  six  o'clock  in  the  evening  of  the  twenty -ninth 
of  October,  Madame  Guizot  was  waiting,  in  the  house 
in  the  Rue  la  Ville-l'Eveque,  for  her  son,  who  had 
not  yet  returned  from  the  Tuileries.  Her  face  was 
full  of  a  mother's  anxiety. 

'  Well  ?  '  she  asked. 

'  I  have  accepted  the  Foreign  Office.' 

'  How  coidd  you  accept  such  a  burden  1 '  cned 
Madame  Guizot. 

'  I  thought  it  was  my  duty.' 

This  was  enough  both  for  mother  and  son.  Ma- 
dame Guizot  submitted  to  her  fate ;  she  already  knew 
all  the  anxieties  and  soitows  which  she  would  have 
to  bear,  without,  however,  anticipating  the  sad  and 
final  catastrophe. 

The  children  saw  only  one  thing,  could  only 
understand  one  thing,  that  their  fother  was  going  to 
stay  in  Paris,  and  that  they  were  going  to  stay  with 


230  MONSIEUR    GUIZOT    IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

their  fixther.  Joy  filled  their  hearts.  They  have 
never  forgotten  that  time.  They  were  still  very 
young,  but,  through  God's  Providence,  they  never 
again,  throughout  their  lives,  had  to  submit  to 
another  absence  from  their  father  so  long  as  the  one 
they  had  just  endured. 

It  was  a  real  reunion.  In  his  busiest  days,  M. 
Guizot  always  found  time  to  visit  his  mother  two  or 
three  times.  His  children  watched  their  opportunity 
for  a  kiss  between  the  audiences,  —  they  always  got 
their  kiss  and  always  found  him  ready  to  interest 
himself  in  their  affaks  and  their  pleasures.  Their 
visits  to  Val-Richer  were  short,  for  M.  Guizot  could 
seldom  spare  a  few  days  for  the  country.  During 
several  summers  Madame  Guizot  refused  to  go  so 
far;  and  it  was  in  the  suburbs  of  Paris,  at  Passy,  or 
Auteuil,  that  she  found  the  fresh  air  needful  for  the 
children.  Val-Richer  was  always,  however,  the 
home,  the  privileged  centre  of  all  the  freedom  and 
enjoyment  of  their  country  life,  and  during  the  three 
or  four  months  they  spent  in  Normandy,  they  kept 
up  a  correspondence  as  active  as  the  one  between 
Paris  and  London. 

More  than  once  M.  Guizot  Avould  write  to  his 
mother  or  his  children  on  the  Council-table,  whilst 
his  colleagues  were  discussing  some  question  from 
which  he  could  distract  his  attention  for  a  few 
minutes,  undisturbed  by  what  was  going  on  around 
him. 

He  writes  to  his  son  :  — 

'  Run  about  and  amuse  yourself,  my  dear  little 


HE  ACCEPTS  THE  FOREIGN  OFFICE.      231 

boy.  I  am  overpowered  by  business  and  by  letters, 
small  and  great.  When  some  messenger  Avakes  me 
up  in  the  middle  of  tlie  night,  and  I  have  to  spend 
half-an-hour  in  reading  despatches,  I  find  it  difficult 
to  go  to  sleep  again,  and  I  get  up  late.  You  do  not 
go  to  sleep  a  second  time,  I  think,  for  you  never 
wake.  Sleep  away,  my  child  —  sleep  as  much  as 
you  can.  Grandmamma  tells  me  that  j^ou  take  a 
book  to  bed  to  read  when  you  awake  in  the  morn- 
ing This  is  very  serious.  I  should  like  a  picture  of 
you  when  so  occupied — M.  Guillaume  in  bed  with 
a  book  in  his  hand,  while  all  around  are  asleep. 
What  book  is  it  ?  Tell  me.  I  am  curious  to  know. 
'  You  have  no  idea  of  what  took  place  yesterday 
in  our  garden.  Late  in  the  evening,  after  dinner, 
we  were  still  in  it,  about  nine  o'clock,  when  General 
Colettis  called  on  me.  He  walked  off  with  some 
one,  I  cannot  remember  who.  Half  an  hour  after- 
wards we  all  went  in,  except  General  Colettis  and 
his  companion.  No  one  knew  that  they  were  still 
there,  and  they  did  not  find  out  that  the  doors  and 
blinds  and  shutters  were  all  being  closed  up  ;  they 
went  on  walking.  About  half-past  ten,  when  they 
wanted  to  go  away,  they  foimd  themselves  impris- 
oned in  the  garden.  They  called  out  and  knocked. 
Nobody  heard  them.  So  they  both  climbed  up  the 
little  wall  on  the  side  of  the  boulevard,  and  from  the 
top  —  all  among  the  bushes  and  creepers  —  they 
begged  the  passers-by  to  deliver  them.  At  last 
succour  came,  so  they  were  not  obliged  to  sleep 
under  the  acacia.     When  I  got  up  this  morning,  I 


232  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN    PRIVATE   LIFE. 

heard  for  the  first  time  of  tlieir  captivity  and  their 
dehverance.' 

'  Here  is  another  thunder-storm.  I  am  writins"  to 
you,  dear  Pauhne,  to  the  sound  of  thunder,  and  in  a 
rooiTi  inundated  by  the  rain.  They  are  sponging  it 
all  up  as  fast  as  they  can.  It  is  a  great  pity.  We 
have  chosen  a  bad  year  for  building  our  conserva- 
tory and  our  orangery.  We  are  not  able  to  choose 
our  years ;  we  must  take  them  as  God  sends  them, 
and  turn  them  to  the  best  account,  be  they  sad  or 
gay,  calm  or  stormy.  You  are  not  sad  —  are  you, 
my  dear  child,  or  stormy?  Your  letter  says  "No." 
It  is  a  very  nice  letter  —  long,  well-written,  and 
very  affectionate. 

'  I  love  you  dearly,  my  dear  little  girl,  and  I  have 
never  told  you  —  any  of  you  —  how  much  that  really 
is.  You  are  a  good  girl,  and  I  hope  you  will  be 
happy  ;  I  will  do  all  I  can  to  make  you  so.  You 
are  very  happy  now  —  are  you  not?  Every  one 
loves  you.  Your  health  is  good ;  you  are  fond  of 
Val-Richer,  of  your  music,  and  of  all  your  lessons 
(may  I  venture  to  say  allf)  You  amuse  youi-self, 
you  go  out  walking  and  driving,  you  enjoy  every- 
thing. My  dear  child,  be  happy  and  grateful,  and 
tell  me  all  that  happens  to  you,  and  everything  that 
enters  your  head.' 

The  father's  tender  prayer  was  entirely  answered. 
Thirty-three  years  later,  the  daughter,  who  scarcely 
preceded  him  to  the  grave,  said  on  her  death  bed  to 
her  sister,  her  eyes  overflowing  with  tears  of  grati- 
tude, '  I  have  been  so  happy,  nothing  has  been 
wanting  in  my  Ufe.' 


HE  ACCEPTS  THE  FOREIGN  OFFICE.      233 

On  the  twenty-ninth  of  October,  1840,  Europe 
feared  that  war  would  set  her  in  a  blaze.  The  situ- 
ation was  now  becoming  less  strained,  and  the 
public  mind  was  beginning  to  calm  down. 

'  I  have  received  very  good  news  from  Alexan- 
dria,' M.  Guizot  wrote  to  his  mother  on  the  twentieth 
of  June,  1841.  '  I  hope  that  at  last  we  are  going  to 
finish  this  business,  and  that  a  treaty  will  be  signed 
in  London  proclaiming  the  restoration  of  good  feel- 
ing between  France  and  the  rest  of  Europe.  For 
the  last  eight  months  I  have  been  working  for  this 
result,  while  endeavouring  not  to  bring  it  on  too 
hastily.  When  it  comes,  I  shall  be  very  glad  that 
it  was  not  hurried.  We  shall  have  exhibited  dig- 
nity as  well  as  pi'udence.  This  will  be  one  of  the 
great  events  in  my  life.  From  1832  to  1835  I  think 
that  I  contributed  more  than  any  one  else  to  nuiin- 
tain  or  re-establish  order  at  home.  In  1840  and 
1841  I  shall  have  obtained  peace  abroad.  If  I  were 
to  retu-e  from  public  life  immediately  afterwards,  I 
should,  I  think,  carry  with  me  the  esteem  of  all 
Europe.     I  hope  that  I  shall  not  lose  it  if  I  remain.' 

On  the  nineteenth  of  October,  1842,  M.  Guizot 
wrote  to  M.  de  Barante,  who  was  staying  in  the 
country,  having  left  St.  Petersburg  in  consequence 
of  the  ill-will  manifested  by  the  Emperor  Nicholas 
towards  Louis-Philippe :  — 

'  My  dear  friend,  I  do  not  like  to  leave  Auteuil 
without  replying  to  your  letter.  I  return  to  Paris 
to-morrow.  It  seems  as  if  I  were  going  back  to  the 
noise  and  the  crowds  of  the  winter.     There  will  be 


/ 

234  MOKSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

none  before  the  session  opens ;  on  the  contrary,  I 
shall  gain  the  time  which  I  now  lose  in  the  perjiet- 
ual  coming  and  going,  and  yet  the  impression  on 
my  mind  is  just  as  I  tell  you.  Here  it  is  rest,  and 
in  Paris  work.  For  the  last  six  weeks  I  have  been 
working  at  public  affairs  with  more  care  and  fewer 
inteiTuptions  than  one  has  in  the  middle  of  tlie  tur- 
moil. I  often  regret  these  interruptions;  it  is  a 
painful  feeling  to  do  ill  what  one  is  capable  of  doing 
well,  and  what,  if  well  done,  would  do  a  great  deal 
of  good.  In  everything  —  in  our  own  conduct  as 
in  our  fortunes  —  our  great  endeavour  in  life  should 
be  to  submit  to  imperfection,  without  being  con- 
tented with  it,  and  to  keep  firm  hold  of  our  ambi- 
tion, while  we  accept  patiently  our  deficiencies.  If 
I  am  proud  of  myself  for  anytliing,  it  is  for  this.  I 
have  learned  to  be  contented  with  little  while  aspir- 
ing to  everything.  The  generation  which  you  and 
I  have  seen  pass  away  lost  itself  by  the  folly  of  its 
pretensions.  The  one  winch  we  see  beginning  is 
too  humble  in  its  aspirations. 

'  Your  impression  of  the  state  of  the  country 
pleases  me  much.  I  really  think  that  we  are  on 
the  right  road ;  but  we  shall  travel  on  it  very  slowly 
and  painfully.  Setting  aside  all  the  evil  propensi- 
ties, all  the  germs  of  disorder  Avhich  develope  so 
freely  in  democratic  societies,  they  have  the  incura- 
ble vice  of  lowering  the  stature  of  public  men  in 
comparison  with  the  greatness  of  the  affaii's  which 
they  have  to  treat. 

'  France  has  always  been  called  to  a  lofty  destiny. 


HE  ACCEPTS  THE  FOREIGN  OFFICE.      235 

and  its  horizon  is  as  wide  as  ever  ;  but  the  character 
and  aims  of  those  who  have  to  work  out  this  destiny 
sink  lower  and  lower.  In  this  lies  a  practical  diffi- 
culty which  meets  you  at  every  turn,  of  which  I  can 
see  no  solution.  I  am  convinced  that  this  will  be 
the  cause  of  my  greatest  difficulties  in  the  approach- 
ing session.  I  shall  be  continually  obliged  to  force 
higher  views  upon  the  public  —  that  public  on  which 
I  and  all  of  us  depend,  and  which  will  feel  wearied 
and  aggrieved  by  my  endeavours.' 

In  the  following  year,  on  the  second  of  Nov- 
ember, 1843,  he  wrote  again  to  M.  de  Barante,  one 
of  the  few  among  his  friends  whom  neither  fear 
nor  scruples  could  induce  to  destroy  M.  Guizot's 

letters :  — 

'  I  am  very  much  in  your  debt,  and  so  you  have 
given  up  writing  to  me.  I  am  hard  at  work.  I  am 
trying  to  put  in  a  good  train,  and  as  forward  as 
possible,  certain  things  which  I  shall  not  be  able  to 
attend  to  when  the  Chambers  have  opened.  Spain 
and  Greece  are  going  on  well.  There  is  no  other 
news  in  Europe. 

'  The  reception  at  Eu  was  very  successful  on  the 
surface,  and  still  more  so  in  reality.  If  only  the  good 
impression  be  not  effaced  !  A  representative  govern- 
ment is  like  Louis  XL,  it  makes  a  great  many 
blunders,  and  then  repairs  them.  Everybody  tells 
me  that  the  session  will  be  a  very  easy  one.  I  do 
not  believe  a  word  of  it.  There  is  no  such  thing  as 
an  easy  session,  but  when  affairs  are  going  on  pros- 
perously people  are  easy  in  their  minds.     The  beau- 


236  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

tifiil  words  of  Scripture,  "They  rest  from  their 
labours,  and  their  works  follow  them,"  do  not  apply 
to  representative  government ;  those  who  return  to 
power  do  not  rest  from  their  labours,  and  their  works 
do  not  follow  them.  It  is  true  that  the  Bible  says 
this  only  of  the  dead,  and  it  is  right  in  so  saying. 
Rest  and  justice  are  only  for  the  dead. 

'  However,  the  more  experience  I  have  had  of 
public  life  the  more  indifferent  have  I  become  to  its 
annoyances,  vicissitudes,  and  trials.  I  am  so  hard- 
ened to  them  that  I  scarcely  notice  them.  The  only 
real  sorrows  are  private  and  family  sorrows.  These 
inflict  wounds  which  time  may  close,  but  can  never 
heal,  and  which  leaves  the  mind  weaker  and  weaker, 
and  more  and  more  incapable  of  enduring  fresh  ones.' 

It  was  from  the  Chateau  d'Eu  that  M.  Guizot 
wrote  to  his  daughters  on  the  first  of  September, 
1843,  while  waiting  for  Queen  Victoria:  — 

'  Thanks  for  your  two  letters,  my  dear  children. 
I  received  them  yesterday  evening  as  I  went  into 
my  bed-room.  I  will  reply  first  to  you,  my  dear 
Henri ette.  Pascal  says  somewhere,  "  Who  is  to  go 
first?  Is  that  man  more  worthy  than  I  am?  An 
unanswerable  question,  an  eternal  dispute.  He  is 
older,  or  has  a  higher  title  —  no  more  difficulties. 
Pass  on."  This  is  a  great  convenience  in  English 
society.  There  is  never  any  embarrassment,  no  one 
is  offended.  At  first  I  was  somewhat  scandalised  by 
seeing  a  boy  of  twenty  —  because  he  happened  to  be 
a  duke  or  a  marquis  —  go  out  before  a  man  whose 
age  or  reputation  entitled   him  to   respect.     I  was 


HE  ACCEPTS  THE  FOUEIGN  OFFICE.      237 

wrong.  In  granting  precedence  to  titles,  we  grant 
nothing  more ;  we  do  not  any  the  less  acknowledge 
the  intrinsic  snperiority  of  personal  merit;  we  only 
suppress  a  number  of  vague  and  worrying  pretensions 
which  disturb  society.  Every  one  knows  his  own 
external  rank.  As  to  moral  rank,  it  remains  what 
it  really  is  —  a  question  always  open,  a  battle  which 
is  always  beginning  again,  and  has  to  be  won  over 
and  over  again.  The  result  is  a  great  deal  of  emula- 
tion, which  is  the  life  of  society,  and  very  little  envy, 
which  is  its  scourge. 

'  I  go  on  talking  like  a  man  who  has  slept  well. 
I  was  tired  last  night.  I  sleep  as  well  in  my  carriage 
as  I  did  twenty  years  ago,  and  I  have  a  much  better 
can-iage  than  I  had  twenty  years  ago ;  but  I  am 
twenty  years  older.  I  feel  well  rested  this  morning, 
and  the  weather  continues  superb — not  a  breath  of 
wind.  This  is  what  we  want  for  to-moiTow.  The 
entrance  to  the  harbour  of  Treport  is  difficult.  We 
do  not  at  all  know  at  what  o'clock  the  Queen  will 
appear.  She  ought  to  be  off  Cherbourg  this  evening. 
Slie  has  a  steam-yacht  of  great  power —  an  engine  of 
450-horse  power,  in  a  very  light  ship.  The  Prince 
de  Joinville,  who  has  gone  to  meet  her,  is  in  despair. 
He  says  that  he  will  never  be  able  to  keep  up  with 
her  with  the  Pluto  and  Archimede. 

'  Will  she  go  on  to  Paris  1  There  are  bets  for  and 
against.  I  persist  in  believing  that  she  will  not.  A 
di-ive  in  the  forest  of  Eu,  with  a  grand  luncheon 
under  a  tent,  a  play  and  a  concert — these  are  the 
pleasures  in  store  for  her,  without  reckoning  those  of 


238  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT    IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

our  agi-eeable  conversation.  There  is  anotlier  mucli- 
contested  question  —  Will  the  King  go  to  meet  her 
on  sea  1  This  is  a  delicate  point.  We  have  become, 
and  with  reason,  very  anxious  on  the  chapter  of 
possible  accidents,  only  the  King  never  will  tliink 
of  them.' 

It  was  at  the  Chateau  d'Eu,  in  the  midst  of  politi- 
cal discussions,  that  the  friendship  between  M.  Guizot 
and  Lord  Aberdeen,  which  had  begun  during  M. 
Guizot's  embassy,  became  an  intimacy.  He  writes 
in  his  memoirs  of  this  friend  who  afterwards  became 
so  dear  to  him :  — 

'  Lord  Aberdeen,  the  most  liberal  of  Tories,  was  a 
man  of  serious  and  equable  disposition,  of  clear  and 
acute  jxidgment,  with  a  mind  at  once  lofty  and 
modest,  penetrating,  and  reserved,  and  iniperturbably 
just.  Always  bowed  down  by  sadness,  for  repeated 
losses  had  wounded  liim  in  his  tenderest  affections, 
he  yet  remained  a  warm-hearted  and  most  delightful 
companion,  although  his  manner  was  cold  and  his 
countenance  austere.  Wlien  we  first  met,  I  was  far 
from  guessing  by  what  bonds  of  business  and  friend- 
ship we  Avere  shortly  to  be  united,  but  I  felt  drawn 
towards  him ;  indeed,  I  may  say,  we  each  experienced 
a  sudden  and  natural  attraction  to  the  other.' 

Eighteen  months  after  the  Queen's  visit  to  the 
Chateau  d'Eu,  when  the  debates  on  the  Right  of 
Search  with  regard  to  vessels  suspected  of  caiTjang 
on  the  slave-trade  Avere  beginning  in  both  countries, 
M.  Guizot  wi-ote  to  Lord  Aberdeen,  on  the  twelfth 
of  January,  1845  :  — 


ROBERT    PEEL. 


HE   ACCEPTS    THE    FOREIGN   OFFICE.  239 

• 

'  Lord  Cowley  gave  me  yesterday  your  despatch 
of  the  ninth.  I  have  only  time  to  tell  you  that  I 
consider  it  entirely  satisfactory,  it  agrees  with  my 
opinions  as  well  as  with  yours.  It  airived  in  a  lucky 
moment ;  the  debate  will  be  opened  to-day  in  the 
Cliamber  of  Peers,  and  to-moiTow  in  the  Chamber  of 
Deputies.  I  hope  that  it  will  have  a  happy  issue  in 
both  Chambers ;  but,  whatever  occurs,  you  may  rest 
assured  that  I  shall  use  your  decision  and  your 
words  in  no  other  sense  than  that  in  which  you  use 
them.  I  do  not  thank  you,  but  they  have  touched 
me  deeply.  For  the  last  three  years,  my  dear  Lord 
Aberdeen,  Ave  have  been  can-ying  on  together  a 
good,  honest,  and  noble  policy.  I  have  a  firm  be- 
lief in  its  success,  and  that  our  two  countries  will 
profit  by  its  fruits ;  but,  whatever  happens,  I  shall 
always  be  deeply  grateful  to  this  policy,  for  to  it  I 
owe  your  friendsliip. 

'  More  even  than  by  your  despatch  of  the  ninth,  I 
am  touched  by  the  concluding  lines  of  your  private 
letter  of  the  third.  I  will  not  use  more  words  than 
you  do.  But  believe  that  those  few  words  reached 
my  heart,  and  will  remain  there. 

'  Remember  me,  I  pray,  to  Sir  Robert  Peel,  and 
ask  him  to  bestow  on  me  a  little  of  the  friendship  he 
entertains  for  you.' 

Lord  Aberdeen's  Ministry  fell,  and  just  as  it  was 
falling  he  wrote  to  his  friend  a  few  lines  of  regret 
and  tender,  modest  confidence  which  were  never  for- 
gotten by  M.  Guizot.  But  England  and  the  Govern- 
ment of  England  remained  unshaken,  in  spite  of  all 


240  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN    PRIVATE   LIFE. 

the  uneasiness  felt  by  all  who  were  anxious  for  peace 
in  Europe. 

In  February,  1848,  when  M,  Guizot  fell  in  liis 
turn,  constitutional  monarchy  fell  with  him ;  the 
storm  of  revolution  once  more  can-ied  away  the 
shelter  which  France  had  considered  safe.  His 
English  friends  were  still  ignorant  of  the  fate  of  M. 
Guizot,  whom  the  Opposition  imjieached  on  the  eve 
of  the  overthrow  of  the  Monarchy  ;  and  Lord  Aber- 
deen was  impatiently  waiting,  in  sadness  and  anxiety, 
for  news  of  his  friend. 

One  of  Lord  Aberdeen's  daughters-in-law  was 
reading  the  newspaper  to  him :  — 

*  M.  Guizot  has  been  arrested  ! '  she  cried.  It  was 
one  of  those  false  rumours  which  were  continually 
circulating  at  that  time.  She  turned,  and  saw  that 
her  father-in-law  had  fainted  away  in  his  arm-chau\ 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

1846-48. 

REVOLUTION EXILE DEATH   OF   MADAME    GUIZOT. 

In  spite  of  the  violent  parliamentary  struggles  which 
followed  the  elections  of  1846,  M.  Guizot  seemed  to 
be  ti'iumphant  and  his  policy  firmly  settled.  He 
continued,  however,  to  regret  the  domestic  enjoy- 
ments which  he  was  often  obliged  to  sacrifice  to  the 
duties  of  his  position. 

In  1847  he  wrote  to  his  younger  daughter,  who 
was  for  a  shoi't  time  separated  from  her  sister :  — 

'  Certainly,  my  dear  Pauline,  I  will  write  to  you 
as  often  as  I  possibly  can  while  you  are  at  Trouville. 
I  have  a  great  deal  to  do.  The  end  of  the  session  is 
always  overburthened  with  work.  But  I  have  been 
long  convinced  that  one  never  wants  time  for  the 
things  one  wishes  verj-  much  to  do,  and  I  wish  very 
much  to  tell  you  frequently  that  I  love  you  with  all 
my  heart.  What  a  pity  that  life  is  so  short !  One 
has  not  time  enough  to  devote  oneself  entirely — to 
show  even  all  one  feels  to  those  we  love.  One  has 
only  a  dim  perception  of  the  joys  which  it  would  be 
so  delightful  to  experience,   which  might  pervade 

16 


242  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

everything  and  be  renewed  at  every  instant.  And 
so  we  grow  old  without  having  fully  enjoyed  the 
happiness  which  might  have  been  ours,  and  we  sep- 
arate, oiu"  hands  still  tilled  with  the  happiness  which 
we  should  have  liked  to  give,  and  miglit  have  given, 
to  others.  Thank  God,  my  child,  we  are  not  separ- 
ated for  ever !  We  shall  see  each  other  again  some 
day,  but  God  alone  knows  what  that  day  will  be,  or 
what  we  ourselves  shall  be  on  that  day.  He  has  not 
thought  fit  to  show  us  the  future  life  distinctly,  but 
he  allows  us  to  have  glimpses  of  it.  And  I  never 
could  understand,  and  I  understand  now  less  than 
ever,  how,  without  this  prospect,  we  could  endure 
the  trials  of  life,  or  resign  ourselves  to  the  thought 
that  its  best  enjoyments  have  so  much  that  is  incom- 
plete and  passing.' 

Again,  on  the  second  of  July :  — 

'  The  letter  I  received  from  you  this  morning, 
pleases  and  touches  me,  dear  Pauline,  and  I  will 
answer  it  at  once.  You  have  reason  to  think  your- 
self happy,  and  I  rejoice  in  seeing  you  enjoy  so  in- 
tensely your  own  happiness.  Preserve  your  joy  and 
your  gratitude,  my  cliild,  and  do  not  give  way  to  sad 
presentiments.  Yes,  things  are  so  an-anged  that  we 
are  often  not  allowed  the  full  enjoyment  of  the  most 
legitimate,  the  most  lasting,  happiness.  Of  those 
whom  we  love,  some  leave  us,  and  we  leave  others. 
Our  lives  are  linked  with  those  who  have  preceded 
us  and  those  we  have  to  leave  behind;  and  both 
these  cherished  ties  are  broken  here  to  be  renewed 
hereafter  in  another  world.     Happy,  tlu-ice  happy. 


REVOLUTION.  243 

when  they  are  broken  only  according  to  the  natural 
order  of  position  and  age,  and  when  we  are  allowed 
to  retain  them  as  long  as  the  laws  of  nature  usually 
permit  It  is  the  premature  blows,  the  unnatural 
separations,  which  throw  the  mind  off  its  balance. 
We  must  bear  them  without  murmuring,  as  the  mys- 
terious dispensations  of  Providence,  who,  from  some 
motive,  unknown  and  incomprehensible  to  us,  strikes 
us  on  the  very  spot  where  we  thought  om-selves  safe, 
tears  away  from  us  the  object  which  His  ordinary 
laws  justified  us  in  the  hope  of  preserving,  and  adds 
to  the  pain  of  parting  the  unexpected  anguisli  which 
it  is  very  difficult  for  us  not  to  consider  cruel  and 
unfair. 

'  I  have  received  two  such  blows,  my  dear  child  ; 
I  have  twice  closed  the  eyes  of  those  dear  ones  who 
ought  to  have  closed  mine.  I  submitted,  and,  I 
venture  to  say,  I  submitted  not  as  one  submits  to 
necessity,  but  as  one  accepts  the  Divine  Will,  — 
without  any  secret  rebellion,  biit  preserving  my 
faith  and  my  gratitude.  But  I  still  feel  the  horrible 
surprise  of  these  blows.  God  grant  that  you  may 
be  spared  them !  May  He  visit  you  only  with 
natural  tiials  such  as  our  minds  are  forced  to  antici- 
pate !  and  may  He  give  you  at  the  same  time  the 
courage  which  you  will  need  to  bear  them,  —  they 
will  be  sufficientl}'  painful  for  j-ou.  I  wish  I  could 
think,  my  dear  children,  that  I  have  exhausted  your 
share,  as  well  as  my  ovm,  of  unexpected  soitows,  — 
the  heaviest  that  we  have  to  bear  in  life  ! ' 

In  the  beginning  of  August,  M.  Guizot  wrote  to 
his  elder  daughter :  — 


244  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN    PRIVATE   LIFE. 

'  You  are  leading,  my  dear  Henriette,  a  quiet  and 
lonely  life.  My  life  is  lonely,  but  not  quiet.  I  am 
lonely,  although  I  am  almost  always  in  company. 
My  home  is  lonely.  I  have  not  you  there  to  visit 
five  or  six  times  a-day,  to  rest  and  refresh  myself  in 
your  company.  With  you,  I  forget  my  life  of 
labour  and  struggle,  it  always  seems  as  if  I  left  my 
burden  at  the  door.  The  older  I  grow,  the  more 
room  is  occupied  in  my  inmost  heart  by  my  affec- 
tions. I  do  not  say,  as  one  often  hears  said,  that 
public  life  has  disapjjointed  me,  that  I  am  disgusted 
with  it,  that  I  have  no  longer  any  ambition,  even  of 
the  best  and  noblest  sort,  that  1  have  ceased  to  be 
deceived  by  the  world  and  mankind.  This  would 
not  be  true.  Public  life  has  not  deceived  my  ex- 
pectations. I  take  as  much  interest  and  pleasure  in 
politics  as  I  did  twenty  yeare  ago.  I  have  not 
found  either  men,  or  human  affairs,  or  the  world, 
below  my  anticipations.  I  have  by  no  means  the 
feeling-  of  beautiful  illusions  which  have  vanished, 
of  great  expectations  disappointed.  I  do  not  regret 
the  dreams  of  youth.  On  the  contrary,  I  feel  that 
God  has  bestowed  on  me  more  than  I  fancied  possi- 
ble ;  and  experience  has  confirmed  rather  than 
destroyed  my  most  sang-uine  expectations.  But 
while  the  great  and  important  interests  which  oc- 
cupy my  time  have  lost  none  of  their  value  in  my 
eyes,  I  am  convinced  of  their  insufficiency  to  fill  my 
heart.  Neither  the  engrossing  occupations  of  poli- 
tics, nor  the  excitement  of  oi3position,  nor  the  gi'ati- 
fications  of  vanity,  have  ever  wholly  absorbed  and 


REVOLUTION.  245 

satisfied  me.  I  have  never  been  thoroughly  and 
really  happy  except  through  my  affections,  and  in 
the  bosom  of  my  affections  :  and  if  I  should  succeed 
in  everything  else,  it  would  be  of  very  little  conse- 
quence to  me  if  I  had  no  one  on  whom  to  bestow 
them.  One's  heart  is  one's  life,  and  one's  heart  is  in 
the  bosom  of  one's  family.  I  can  say  this  with  more 
authority  than  anyone,  for  I  have  known  and  tried 
everything  else. 

'  The  conclusion  of  all  this  is  that  I  shall  be  very 
happy  on  the  fourteenth,  as  happy  as  you,  my  dear 
child.  I  would  willingly  travel  all  night  to  spend 
to-morrow  with  you  and  return  hither  the  following 
night.  But  this  is  impossible.  My  place  to-morrow 
is  in  the  Chamber  of  Peers.  I  am  anxious  that  the 
end  of  the  Session  should  go  off  well ;  the  last  week 
has  been  successful  and  I  will  ne":lect  nothing'. 

'  I  love  you  with  all  my  heart,  my  dear  Henri- 
ette,  and  I  thank  God  for  the  present  He  gave  me 
eighteen  years  ago.  How  happy  your  mother 
would  be  to-day,  were  she  with  us !  Among  all 
my  regrets  not  one  of  the  least  is  that  I  am  not 
able  to  share  Avith  her  tlie  happiness  given  me  by 
the  children  whom  she  bestowed  on  me.  She  sees 
and  enjoys  it  from  her  unknown  dwelling,  I  am 
convinced.  May  this  idea  be  a  reward  and  an  en- 
couragement for  you.  You  should  love  the  memory 
of  your  mother  —  I  dare  not  say  as  well  as  you 
would  have  loved  her,  that  is  impossible,  but  you 
should  cherish  her  memory  tenderly,  very  tenderly. 
You  will  never  know  how  much  you  owe  to  her, 


246  MONSIETJK   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

although  she  left  you  so  early.  When  I  shall  have 
really  attained  the  rest  of  old  age,  I  shall  talk  to 
you  of  her  more  than  I  have  ever  yet  done,  in  our 
two  nests  —  Val-Richer  and  the  Rue  Ville  I'll^veque. 
You  shall  know  her  through  rne.  Here  are  kisses 
for  you  and  Pauline,  from  your  mother  as  well  as 
from  me.  And  you  must,  both  of  you,  kiss  for  me 
your  excellent  grandmother,  who  has  stood  by  you 
with  a  tenderness  and  devotion  which  has  doubled 
the  gratitude  I  owed  her  on  my  own  account.  May 
it  please  God  to  preserve  her  to  us  for  a  long  time. 
This  is  my  prayer  every  day,  and  to-day  more  than 
any  other  day. 

'  I  liope  you  thought  the  dress  I  sent  you  pretty. 
That  giddy  little  Pauline  has  never  told  me  if  my 
parcel  reached  you  ;  I  think  it  did,  however,  she 
would  have  told  me  if  it  had  not. 

'  I  am  delighted  that  you  will  have  Rosine  with 
you  to-morrow.  You  will  never,  in  the  course  of 
your  life,  meet  with  a  more  affectionate  and  excellent 
friend ;  or  one  in  whose  love  and  advice  you  may 
place  more  implicit  confidence.  I  wonder  if  she 
will  ever  know  how  sincerely  I  esteem  and  am 
attached  to  her.  I  shall,  perhaps,  some  day  say  a 
great  deal  more  to  her  on  this  subject  than  I  have 
hitherto  done. 

'  Good-bye,  my  good,  my  dear  Henriette.  Time 
is  getting  on.  We  shall  be  together  on  the  last  day 
in  the  week,  let  us  all  pray  that  nothing  may  inter- 
fere with  this  prospect.  Farewell ;  a  thousand  kisses. 
I  am  not  very  tired.     Guillaume  is  quite  well,  he 


REVOLUTION.  247 

says  that  he  is  going  to  write  an  enormous  letter  to 
you,  to-day.  We  do  not  yet  know  the  result  of  his 
Greek  essay.  None  of  the  examiners  were  profess- 
ors of  the  Collaie  Bourbon.  Guillaume  was  guilty 
of  a  barbarism  which  somewhat  damps  his  hopes. 
He  is  nevertheless  as  meiTy  as  ever,  and  as  impa- 
tient as  ever  to  see  you  again.  The  College  fills  up 
his  time,  but  not  his  heart.' 

Whether  far  or  near,  with  them  or  away  fi-om 
them,  it  was  M.  Guizot's  delight  to  contrive  little 
pleasures  and  luxm-ies  for  those  he  loved.  He  often 
himself  chose  di-esses  and  ribbons  for  his  daughters  ; 
in  their  absence  he  superintended  the  alterations  in 
their  rooms. 

'  I  enjoy  beforehand  very  much  the  new  arrange- 
ments in  your  apartment,'  he  writes.  '  You  will  be 
really  well  lodged;  it  will  be  large,  healthy,  and 
comfortable.  They  j)romise  me  that  the  chimney 
will  not  smoke  any  more.  I  had  the  steward  with 
me  yesterday  for  ten  minutes,  looking  into  every 
hole  and  corner  of  the  apartment.  Take  care,  how- 
evei",  of  one  thing,  my  dear  cliildren  —  do  not  ac- 
custom yourselves  to  look  upon  all  this  gi-andeur, 
this  comfort,  these  adornments,  as  necessities.  You 
will  lose  them  some  day.  I  hope,  indeed,  that  your 
trials  of  this  kind  will  not  be  as  severe  as  mine  have 
been,  and  that  you  will  not  be  reduced  to  such 
narrow  circumstances  as  I  have  sometimes  expe- 
rienced. I  trust  that  I  have  secured  for  you  a  suffi- 
ciently high  position  to  start  you  well  in  life,  but 
even  in  tliis  case  you  will  probably  not  be  as  highly 


248  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

placed  as  you  are  just  now.  And  in  every  position 
poverty  and  vicissitvides  are  possible,  and  you  may 
not  be  spared  these  trials.  Hold  yourself  well  above 
them.  The  reverses  of  fortune  are  light  and  indif- 
ferent compared  with  those  that  touch  our  hearts 
and  woimd  us  elsewhere  than  in  oiu-  clothes  and  our 
furniture.  Losses  of  fortune  must  be  taken  and 
borne  not  only  with  courage  and  dignity  but  with 
calmness  and  cheerfulness,  and  considered  as 
scratches,  not  as  real  wounds  in  life.  During  my 
youth,  and  more  than  my  youth,  I  lived  with  the 
most  perfect  models  of  fortitude  in  this  respect,  and 
to  whom  it  came  quite  naturally.  Some  day  when 
I  am  at  leisure  I  will  tell  you  some  anecdotes  which 
will  touch  you  deeply,  and  at  the  same  time  make 
you  laugh.  However,  you  have  a  living  example 
beside  you.' 

The  day  came,  when,  in  the  midst  of  the  crum- 
bling away  of  the  whole  sti-ucture  of  society,  M. 
Guizot's  children  were  to  experience  the  instability 
of  all  things  human.  A  few  months  after  receiving 
the  above  letter,  his  second  daughter,  wlio  had 
taken  refuge  in  London,  replied  laughingly  to  an 
English  friend,  who  asked  her  if  she  often  went  into 
the  Park,  '  No ;  because  our  carriage,  the  omnibus, 
does  not  go  tlu-ough  the  Park.'  The  lesson  which 
her  father  had  tried  to  inculcate  came  easily  to  her. 
Events  spoke  more  authoritatively  than  man,  even 
than  the  wisest  and  most  beloved.  The  Revolution 
of  the  twenty-fourth  of  February,  1848,  carried  away 
everything  at  once  —  cherished  hopes,  brilliant  pros- 


EXILE.  249 

pects,  laborious  and  anxious  eflPorts  persevered  in  for 
a  country  which  became  more  dear  in  proportion  to 
the  changes  and  reverses  of  its  fortunes.  For  a  time 
M.  Guizot  Avas  deprived  even  of  his  country.  He, 
like  his  colleagues,  was  impeached,  and  forced  to 
seek  an  asylum  in  a  foreign  land. 

At  first  M.  Guizot  did  not  think  this  necessary. 
On  the  morning  of  the  twenty-fifth  of  February,  he 
wrote  to  his  elder  daughter  from  the  house  of  Ma- 
dame de  Mirbel :  — 

'  My  dear  Henriette,  yom'  few  lines  have  made  me 
very  happy,  strange  as  the  Avord  seems  to  me  at 
present.  You  are  always  my  first  anxiety.  Take 
good  care  of  your  grandmother.  Whether  together 
or  apart  God  watches  over  us  and  will  reunite  us. 
I  had  always  a  great  friendship  for  M.  and  Madame 
Lenormant,  and  I  now  love  them  as  we  love  the 
friends  who  have  bestowed  upon  us  the  greatest  pos- 
sible service.  I  sleep  well,  and  my  health  is  good. 
I  have  had  no  bodily  fatigue,  it  is  only  my  mind 
that  is  tired,  and  very  tired.  It  is  impossible  yet  to 
see  clearly  what  ought  to  be  done,  either  as  regards 
you  or  me.  Let  us  remain  where  we  are.  I  am 
treated  with  an  enthusiastic  friendship  which  touches 
me  deeply.  I  received  yesterday  the  most  unwearied 
kindness  from  a  poor  portress.  I  tell  you  this  to 
comfort  and  reassure  you.  Good-bye.  My  love  to 
you  all.  Do  not  let  Guillaume  go  outside  the  door. 
As  soon  as  I  see  Avhat  ought  to  be  done  I  will  let 
you  know.  Farewell  again,  my  dearest.  I  shoiild 
like  to  embrace  also  all  youi-  hosts,  all  of  them. 


250  MOJfSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

When  you  write  tell  me  how  Madame  Lenomiant  is. 
You  may  have  to  go  out  soon  in  order  to  arrange 
our  home  in  the  Rue  la  Ville  I'Eveque.  Never  go 
go  out  except  with  Rosine  or  Madame  de  Stael.' 

The  revolutionary  tempest  raged  more  furiously, 
and  was  more  threatening  to  M.  Guizoi's  personal 
safety  than  he  had  at  first  suspected.  When  he  left 
Paris  his  children  had  preceded  him  into  exile,  they 
were  taken  to  England  by  some  devoted  friends.  I 
will  borrow  from  a  little  narrative  of  those  bitter 
days,  written  by  his  second  daughter,  her  recollection 
of  the  moment  when  they  all  met  again  in  a  hospi- 
table house  in  London. 

'  On  Friday,  March  third,  at  six  o'clock  in  the 
evening,  M.  de  Rabaudy  came  to  tell  us  that  my 
father  had  landed  at  Dover ;  it  was  in  an  English 
newspaper,  we  could  hardly  believe  it.  M.  de  Ra- 
baudy said  that  he  was  going  to  the  station  to  wait 
for  the  arrival  of  the  train.  It  was  just  eight  years 
since  he  had  seen  my  father  arrive  in  London  as 
Ambassador  —  we  may  truly  say,  "How  times  are 
changed  ! " 

'  I  prayed  over  and  over  again  that  God  would 
sustain  us  if  our  hopes  proved  false.  We  scarcely 
dared  to  trust  to  them ;  and  yet  the  heart  is  so  in- 
clined to  believe  the  things  it  hopes  for !  We  sat 
down  to  dinner  listening  to  every  noise.  At  seven 
o'clock  a  carriage  stopped  at  the  door ;  at  once  I 
jumped  xip,  crying  out,  "  Here  he  is !  "  I  was  not 
allowed  to  look  out  ....  we  hear  steps  in  the  ante- 
room, the  door  opens  —  it  is  he  indeed  !     0  God ! 


EXILE.  251 

Thou  only  canst  tell  all  that  passed  in  onr  hearts 
dimng  this  moment  of  such  liappiness  as  is  seldom 
granted  in  life.  I  cannot  put  it  into  words,  I  cannot 
describe  the  instant  when  we  found  ourselves  in  his 
arms,  the  remembrance  is  too  deeply  graven  on  my 
heart  for  me  to  be  able  to  exjn'ess  it.  As  my  father 
said,  "  There  are  in  life  great  compensations :  the 
greatest  joys  follow  the  greatest  sorrows."  We  went 
on  gazing  at  him,  and  crying  out,  "Father!  father!" 

'  He  looked  very  pale  and  tired ;  he  had  suffered 
so  much.  Thank  Heaven  liis  escape  was  very  easy! 
After  leaving  the  Ministry  of  the  Interior,  about  one 
o'clock  on  Thursday,  twenty-fourth  (M.  Odillon 
BaiTot  was  just  being  brought  thitlier),  my  father  was 
hidden  by  Madame  Duchatel  in  tlie  room  of  a  por- 
tress in  the  Rue  Vanneau.  In  tlie  evening  Madame 
de  Mirbel  came  to  fetch  him,  and  took  him  to  her 
house ;  she  hid  liim  there,  and  looked  after  him  with 
unwearied  devotion  until  Wednesday,  March  first, 
when  he  left  Paris  with  M.  de  Fleischmann,  who 
took  him  as  his  valet  as  far  as  Brussels,  by  the 
Northern  Railroad.  When  there  my  father  was  out 
of  danger ;  and  at  Ostend  he  took  the  steamboat  to 
Dover.  He  was  not  recognised  on  the  road,  al- 
though he  waited  at  the  station  in  Paris  for  an  hour 
and  a  quarter.  The  train,  which  was  to  have  started 
at  seven,  did  not  set  off  till  a  quarter-past  eight. 
What  thanksgivings  we  should  offer  up  to  God ! ' 

Madame  Guizot  alone  was  wanting  to  complete 
the  reunion  of  the  family.  She  was  obliged  to  re- 
main in  Paris  because  no  carnage  could  pass  in  the 


252  MONSIEUR    GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

streets,  whicli  were  blocked  in  every  direction  by 
barricades.  Her  strength  of  mind  astonished  the 
ftiithfnl  friends  who  surrounded  her.  She  was  left 
at  first  to  the  tender  care  of  M.  and  Madame  Lenor- 
mant,  and  afterwards  she  waited  at  the  house  of 
Mademoiselle  de  Latour  Chabaud  until  it  became 
possible  for  her  to  undertake  the  journey,  in  whicli 
her  faithful  friend  was  to  accompany  her.  At  times 
the  prospect  of  leaving  home,  at  her  advanced  age, 
for  a  foreign  country,  seemed  to  frighten  her.  'I 
will  go  to  join  them ! '  she  then  repeated ;  and  her 
strong  will  gained  the  victory  over  the  feeble  body, 
which  had  been  shaken  by  so  many  trials.  During 
those  days  of  violence  her  grandchildren  often 
blessed  Grod  for  the  deafness  which  prevented  her 
hearing  the  cries  constantly  vociferated  under  the 
windows  of  the  *  Bibliotheque  Roy  ale,'  in  which  they 
were  concealed.  To  the  sound  of  the  Qa  ira, 
which  would  have  revived  such  sinister  recollections 
in  her  mind,  were  joined  perpetually  the  threats, 
'  Down  with  Guizot !     Give  us  Guizot's  head  ! ' 

M.  Guizot  awaited  his  mother's  amval  with  equal 
corn-age  and  anxiety.  On  the  thirteenth  of  March 
he  wrote  to  M.  de  Barante :  — 

'  Dear  friend,  thank  you  for  yom-  few  lines.  My 
exile  is  as  tolerable  as  I  could  expect.  When  my 
mother  reaches  us,  and  I  expect  her  this  week,  I 
shall  be  surrounded  by  all  the  chief  objects  of  my 
love.  I  am  very  well  received  here ;  almost  as  well 
as  if  there  were  no  grievance  against  me.  But  I  am, 
and  shall  remain,  profoundly  sad.    What  a  spectacle  ! 


EXILE.  253 

what  a  future  !  In  spite  of  my  optimism,  I  always, 
in  my  inmost  soul,  believed  the  evil  to  be  very 
great,  and  this  was  one  of  the  reasons  why  I  strug- 
gled so  ardently  against  it.  I  did  not,  however, 
tlioroughly  appreciate  its  extent.  It  was  not  until  I 
came  hither  that  I  knew  how  great  it  was. 

'  To-day  there  is  a  large  meeting  of  Chartists  — 
twelve  or  fiteen  thousand  of  them  —  at  Kennington, 
close  to  London ;  they  have  met  to  ask  for  only 
half  of  what  the  Communists  demand  in  Paris.  The 
walls  are  covered  with  handbills,  issued  by  the 
police,  forbidding  all  assembling  for  the  piu-pose  of 
going  in  procession  to  the  meeting:  exactly  like 
Delessert's  proclamation  tln-ee  weeks  ago.  Every- 
body— on  one  side  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  and  Lord 
Lincoln,  on  the  other  the  2000  Thames  stevedores 
—  the  whole  of  the  aristocracy  and  of  the  respectable 
classes,  down  to  a  very  low  stratum,  rally  round  the 
Government,  and  rush  to  swear  themselves  in  as 
special  constables  to  support  it  against  violence. 
There  will  be  at  Kennington  more  volunteers  to 
repress  disturbance  than  to  make  it.  This  is  a  fine, 
yet  a  painful  sight  to  me. 

'  I  shall  say  no  more.  I  have  too  much  to  say. 
Both  my  mind  and  my  heart  are  full.  I  intended  to 
have  added  a  few  words  to  express  my  ardent  friend- 
ship, my  constant  affection,  my  intense  regret  that  I 
can  see  you  no  more. 

'  I  shall  set  to  work  again.  I  have  found,  close 
to  London  —  at  Brompton  —  a  little  house,  which  is 
almost  in  the  country ;  it  is  good  enough  for  us,  and 


254  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

inexpensive.  I  shall  be  able  to  go  into  London  easily 
every  day.     Farewell,  my  dear,  dear  friend  !' 

Already,  indeed,  M.  Guizot  had  returned  to  work, 
moved  as  much  by  external  necessity  as  by  his  own 
inclinations.  The  income  which  he  derived  from 
France  was  very  insufficient ;  Ids  salaries  from  the 
University  and  the  Institute  were  sequestrated,  and 
he  was  determined  to  have  recourse  only  at  the  last 
extremity  to  the  ojffers  of  money  which  poured  in 
upon  him  from  all  quarters.  He  accejoted  an  offer  of 
literary  assistance  made  to  him  by  M.  Lenormant, 
who  had  formerly  supplied  his  place  as  Professor  of 
Literature. 

'  I  do  not  pretend  to  thank  you,  ni}^  dear  friend,' 
he  wrote,  on  the  twenty-fourth  of  IMarch,  '  but  I  want 
to  tell  you  how  deeply  I  am  touched  by  your  letter, 
not  more,  however,  but  as  much  as  I  have  been  by 
all  your  and  your  excellent  wife's  kindness  during 
those  terrible  days.  To  you  I  owe  the  greater  part 
of  all  the  fortitude  I  could  summon  during  the  time 
when  I  was  separated  from  my  family.  Now  that  I 
have  them  all  round  me,  and  that  I  am  about  to 
begin  work,  I  accept,  without  hesitation,  your  pro- 
posal of  collaboration ;  and  I  hope,  that  as  well  as 
being  very  useful  to  myself,  it  will  not  be  unprofit- 
able to  you. 

'  Here  are  my  projects.  I  intend  to  resume  them 
all  at  once :  — 

*  1.  My  History  of  the  English  Revolution.  I  have 
reached  the  Republic  and  Cromwell.  I  can  write  it 
here  (in  two  volumes)  with  all  the  available  materials 


EXILE.  255 

in  priut  or  MS. ;  everybody  will  put  them  at  my 
disposal. 

'  2.  My  History  of  France  as  Told  to  my  Children. 
I  began  it  at  Val-Riclier,  in  1839,  and  I  have  -writ- 
ten tlu-ee  chapters.  I  think  I  could  write  in  six 
volumes  a  history  wliich  would  be  of  real  value  in 
itself,  and  interesting  and  readable  in  its  form,  and 
likely  to  become  generally  popular.  I  wish  you 
would  send  me  a  list  of  all  the  histories  of  France 
which  have  apjieared  since  Sismondi  —  small  and 
great,  elementary  summaries,  or  learned  works.  I 
have  lost  sight  of  this  kind  of  literature ;  I  must 
renew  my  acquaintance  with  it.  I  shall  see  which 
of  these  books  I  can  get  here,  and  I  sliall  ask  you 
to  send  me  any  that  are  w'orth  having,  and  that  I 
cannot  obtain  here.  I  could  get  on  quickly  with 
this  work ;  and  I  think  that  even  here  it  would  have 
a  great  sale. 

'  3.  You  have  anticipated  my  third  project :  I 
intend  to  continue  my  History  of  Civilization  in 
France.  A  gi'eat  many  important  matei'ials  are  not 
to  be  found  here,  especially  as  regards  the  philo- 
sophical and  literary  part ;  these  facts  are  collected 
nowhere,  and  must  be  searched  for  in  every  direc- 
tion. Your  collaboration  can  alone  supply  this 
defect.  You  nmst  beat  \vg  the  whole  country,  start 
all  the  game,  and  send  it  to  me ;  I  will  endeavour 
to  cook  it.  To  begin  with,  please  to  find  and  send 
me  a  list  of  the  principal  books  and  documents 
which  you  think  are  indispensable  for  the  period  at 
wliich  I  stopped  (the  twelfth,  thuteenth,  and  four- 


256  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

teentli  centuries).  I  will  see  what  I  can  find  here, 
and  I  shall  begin  to  arrange  and  stimulate  my  ideas. 
Tell  me  what  you  yourself  did,  and  published  at  the 
end  of  your  lectures  on  this  subject ;  I  am  quite  in 
the  dark  now.' 

A  few  days  later  (on  the  thirty-first  of  March)  M. 
Guizot's  mother  expired  in  the  little  house  wdiich  he 
had  hired  at  Brompton  —  without  pain  or  struggle, 
like  a  tired  workman  whose  task  is  finished.  The 
sufferings  and  anxieties  of  the  last  few  days,  the 
effort  it  had  cost  her  to  rejoin  her  son,  used  up  all 
her  remaining  physical  sti'ength.  Her  luoral  cour- 
age and  her  tenderness  were  inexhaustible  to  the 
end.  When  she  could  no  longer  speak  her  eyes 
followed  the  movements  of  those  she  loved  Avith 
affectionate  interest.  And  yet  she  died  without 
regret,  murmm'ing  at  the  last  moment,  '  I  am  going 
to  join  /«'/»,'  thus  faithful  to  the  memory  of  her  hus- 
band she  had  lost  fifty -four  years  earlier,  and  whose 
image  had  been  ever  present  in  her  heart.  Her  last 
wish  testified  to  this  unceasing  remembrance.  '  You 
will  leave  me  here  ! '  she  said  to  her  son,  '  as  I  can- 
not rest  by  your  father's  side  I  will  stay  where  God 
has  brought  me.' 

When  she  first  set  foot  in  London,  and  found  her- 
self in  the  amis  of  her  son  and  her  grandchildren,  she 
said,  '  Now  I  am  willing  to  die  ! '  Hardly  a  fort- 
night had  elapsed,  when  she  died,  in  the  full  posses- 
sion of  her  faculties ;  strong,  simple,  and  natural  to 
the  last,  supported  by  the  unshaken  faith  which  had 
carried  her  through  so  many  trials,  and  leaving  to 


DEATH   OF   MADAME    GUIZOT.  257 

all  who  knew  her  the  remembrance  of  the  most 
unaffected  and  unquestioned  power  of  authority,  and 
a  dignity  which  attained  to  majesty. 

'  I  think  I  see  her  still,'  M.  de  St.  Beuve  writes,* 
— '  and  who  that  had  once  had  the  honour  of  seeing 
her  could  ever  forget  M.  Guizot's  venerable  mother, 
in  her  simple,  antique  di-ess  —  her  countenance  with 
its  strong  and  deep  expression,  its  sweet  austerity, 
which  called  to  my  mind  the  portraits  of  the  nuns 
of  Port  Royal,  and  which  in  defixult  of  Philippe  de 
Chamjjagne  has  been  preseiwed  for  us  bv  one  of  the 
most  refined  painters  of  our  age,t  —  that  mother  of 
the  Cevennes,J  who  kept  until  the  end  of  her  days 
the  most  devoted  and  submissive  of  sons  1  —  I  think 
I  see  her  now  in  the  official  saloon  which  she  only 
passed  through,  and  in  which  she  appeared  for  a 
moment  as  the  living  representative  of  faith,  sim- 
plicity, and  of  those  snbstantial  virtues  which  were 
brought  to  light  by  pei'secution  at  the  time  of  the 
Desert.^ 

Her  death  Avas  worthy  of  her  life.  Her  last  act 
of  devotion  was  to  brave  fatigue  and  suffering,  and 
break  through  all  her  usual  habits,  to  join  her  exiled 
son.  The  eternal  country  was  opened  to  her  by 
God. 

'  Dear  Friend,'  M.  Guizot  wrote  on  the  first  of 
April  to  Madame  Lenormant,  '  God  has  just  called 


*  Noitvelles  Causeries  du  Lundi,  vol.  ix. 

t  Ary  Sclieffer,  whom  M.  Guizot  used  to  call  the  painter -of 
souls. 

X  See  p.  1. 

17 


258  MOKSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

my  motlier  to  Himself.  She  bore  the  jomney  won- 
derfully ;  last  Saturday  she  seemed  to  liave  cauglit 
a  little  cold  without  any  apparent  reason,  on  Tues- 
day she  had  a  shivering  fit,  which  frightened  me. 
On  Wednesday  the  cold  seemed  to  be  almost  gone, 
but  was  followed  by  general  irritation  and  weak- 
ness, scarcely  any  suffering,  but  an  involuntary 
jerking  in  all  her  limbs.  Yesterday  even  this  symp- 
tom disappeared.  She  bade  us  her  last  farewell, 
gave  us  her  last  counsels,  saw  us  and  heard  us  to 
the  very  last  moment,  and  expired  at  half-past  seven 
o'clock  with  as  much  physical  as  mental  tranquillity. 
I  shall  be  eternally  grateful  to  the  friends  who  sent 
and  brought  her  to  me.  She  owed  to  them  the  rest 
and  happiness  of  her  last  days,  I  owe  to  them  the 
not  being  separated  from  her  until  the  last  moment, 
when  God,  not  man,  ordained  it. 

'  She  loved  you  much,  very  mucli,  my  dear  friend, 
and  also  your  husband  and  children.  She  continu- 
ally talked  of  the  time  she  spent  Avith  you,  and  of 
your  care  and  affection.  You  will  shed  tears  over 
her  memory,  and  you  will  consider  it  a  happiness  in 
your  life  to  have  known  and  loved  her.  Tell  your 
aunt,*  from  me  that  my  mother  was  thinking  a  great 
deal  about  her  not  six  days  ago.  Pauline  has  a  little 
cold,  otherwise  my  children  are  well.  I  am  now  left 
alone  with  them  —  the  affections  which  belong  to 
the  future.  The  chapter  of  ni}-  past  affections  is 
closed.' 


Madame  Recamier. 


DEATH   OF   MADAME   GUIZOT.  259 

And  a  few  days  later,  on  the  sixth  of  April :  — 
'  Pauline's  cold  is  going  off;  Guillaiime  has  re- 
sumed his  studies  with  me.  He  finds  them  rather 
solitary ;  not  so  attractive  as  his  college  studies,  but 
I  will  do  my  best  to  make  up  for  Avhat  he  has  lost. 
He  likes  conversation,  and  is  naturally  fluent  and 
animated.  I  would  not  trust  him  to  anyone  but 
you,  but  for  the  present  I  shall  keep  him  with  me. 
It  would  be  a  very  painful  separation  for  us  all,  and 
I  think  that,  on  the  whole,  it  is  better  that  he  should 
remain  with  us.  You  have  a  real  mother's  heart  for 
my  children,  and  I  never  receive  a  letter  from  you 
that  does  not  touch  my  father's  heart  to  the  quick, 
and  also  my  heart  as  a  son.  You  have  cause  for 
loving  my  mother  as  much  as  you  did,  and  will 
always  love  her  ;  she  loved  you  tenderly  and 
thought  about  you  a  great  deal.  Write  to  me  as 
you  would  have  done  to  her  about  your  health,  and 
take  care  of  it,  as  she  advised  you.  Alas  !  our  little 
house  is  now  airanged  with  reference  to  her  eternal 
absence.  We  followed  her  yesterday  to  her  last 
home  in  the  Kensal  Green  Cemetery.  A  part  of  it 
is  reserved  for  Dissenters  —  Presbyterians,  and  oth- 
ers —  in  which  I  have  bought  a  plot,  and  her  name 
will  be  there.  I  am  sure  that  she  would  not  object 
to  anything  in  all  this.' 

On  the  tomb  of  Madame  Guizot,  who  died  at  the 
age  of  eighty-four  in  a  foreign  land,  are  engraved 
the  same  words  as  are  inscribed  on  that  of  her 
granddaughter,  Madame  Cornelis  de  Witt,  who  died 
at  the  age  of  forty-three  after  an  equally  active  and 
useful  life :  — 


260  MONSIEUR    GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

'  Blessed  are  the  dead  which  die  in  the  Lord  from 
henceforth,  tliat  they  rest  from  their  hibours,  and 
their  works  do  follow  them.' 

On  the  iifteenth  of  April,  M.  Guizot  wrote  to  M. 
de  Barante :  — 

'  Indeed  you  speak  truly,  my  dear  friend,  when 
you  tell  me  that  my  heart  would  have  ached  all  my 
life  if  my  mother  had  died  away  from  me.  She  had 
scarcely  seated  herself,  on  the  day  of  her  arrival, 
when  she  said  to  me,  "Now  I  am  willing  to  die." 
She  passed  away  almost  without  any  illness  or  suffer- 
ing, her  body  almost  as  easy  as  her  mind ;  and  I 
never  knew  a  mind  so  full  of  strong  feeling,  and  at 
the  same  time  so  serene. 

'  She  took,  of  late  years,  a  most  affectionate  in- 
terest in  yon  and  Madame  de  Barante,  and  the  poor 
child  yon  lost,  and  often  talked  of  her  to  my  daugh- 
ters. She  was  one  of  those  whom  it  is  impossible, 
and  it  would  be  wrong,  to  forget. 

'My  children  are  well.  I  see  a  great  deal  of 
them.  Guillaume  has  resumed  his  studies  with  me. 
I  learn  again  what  he  learns.  We  are  reading  to- 
gether Homer  and  Thncydides,  Virgil  and  Tacitus, 
and  we  talk  interminably  of  what  we  read.  This 
does  not  make  up  for  college,  —  nothing  can  do  so. 
It  was  to  him  like  a  country  in  which  one  is  engaged 
in  pviblic  life ;  but  he  gets  constant  employment  and 
an  intellectual  stimulant  which  he  enjoys. 

'  My  girls  are  very  busy  and  very  happy.  Cour- 
age comes  easily  to  Avell-disposed  natures,  and  the 
eaidy  trials  of  life  excite  more  than  they  tu-e  us.     I 


DEATH    OF   MADAME    GUIZOT.  261 

have  established  myself  a  little  out  of  London,  -where 
I  was  liable  to  be  invaded  by  visitors,  some  of  them 
real  friends  and  others  only  curious  and  idle. 

'  I  have  begun  writing  again  —  the  History  of  the 
English  Revolid'ion  and  that  of  Civilisation  in  France. 
I  am  as  much  interested  in  my  work  as  ever,  and  I 
see  into  it  much  more  clearly.  I  also  began,  ten 
years  ago,  at  Val-Richer,  one  summer  when  I  Avas  at 
leisure,  a  History  of  France  for  my  Children^  which, 
as  I  went  on  witli  it,  grew  fit  for  other  readei's 
besides  children.     I  shall  continue  it. 

'  I  was  A-ery  tired,  especially  mentally  tired,  last 
winter.  Tired  and  sad ;  not  that  I  foresaw  what  has 
happened,  but  I  felt  that  I  was  engaged  in  a  struggle, 
which,  instead  of  finishing,  success  aggravated.  I 
was  enrao'ed  in  a  never-endin"'  fio-ht  with  vul"ar 
errors  and  low  passions.  I  am  recovering  from  this 
painful  state  of  mind  ;  I  enjoy  my  liberty,  my  absence 
of  responsibilitj',  in  a  climate  which  although  not 
mild  is  healthy. 

*  When  I  look  abroad,  all  my  thoughts  are  sad ; 
but  not  so  when  I  look  within.  I  wait,  and  shall  go 
on  waiting  with  patience  as  long  as  God  pleases,  and 
without  knowing  what  may  be  in  store  for  me.  My 
mind  is  not  discouraged,  nor  have  I  lost  confidence 
in  my  cause.  This  makes  resignation  easy,  even  a 
resignation  which  will  have  to  last  a  long  time,  and 
to  which  I  see  no  end.' 

It  was  Avith  this  calm  fortitude  and  unconquerable 
optimism  that  M.  Guizot  waited  for  whatever  fortune 
Providence  might  have  in  store  for  him.     He  tried  to 


262  MONSIEUE   GUIZOT   IN    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

inspire  his  childi-en  with  his  own  unshaken  devotion 
to  his  country.  On  the  twentieth  of  July,  1848, 
he  wrote  his  son,  wlio  was  spending  a  few  days  in 
the  country  :  — 

'  My  dear  chikl,  I  do  not  like  you  to  return  with- 
out having  received  a  few  lines  from  me.  Thank 
you  for  your  letter  of  this  morning.  Make  youi'self 
quite  easy,  you  need  not  use  many  words  to  express 
your  affection  for  me.  I  know  an'd  I  rejoice  over  it 
in  my  inmost  heart  withoixt  saying  much  about  it  on 
my  side :  real  happiness  in  true  affection  does  not 
consist  in  words,  but  in  the  mutual  confidence  which 
dispenses  with  them. 

'  I  am  delighted  that  you  have  had  the  opportunity 
of  riding  again.  I  hope  that,  in  spite  of  the  long  in- 
terruption, you  have  done  lionoui*  to  French  horse- 
manship, which  is  not  in  great  rejiute  in  England.  I 
hope  that  you  will  tell  me  who  gave  you  this  mount. 

*  You  will  not  find  any  gi-eat  events  in  the  papers 
you  have  not  read.  There  will  be,  however,  enough 
to  interest  you.  You  take  a  lively  interest  in  every- 
thing which  happens  in  France,  and  you  are  right. 
One  must  love  one's  coiintry  and  devote  oneself  to 
it,  —  love  it  even  in  its  blindness  and  ingratitude. 
Your  generation  will  have  to  do  much,  in  France  and 
for  France.  You  will  not  succeed  entii'ely,  nor  will 
you  be  fully  satisfied  with  your  efforts.  A  very 
incomplete  and  a  very  dearly-bought  success  is  the 
best  that  we  can  hope  for  in  this  world.  I  trust, 
however,  that  your  share  of  success  will  be  larger 
than  om's  has  been,  and  not  so  dearly  bought.' 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

1848-52. 

RETURN  FROM  EXILE — THE  COUP  d'^TAT. 

The  first  dawn  of  hope  for  the  country's  approaching 
recovery  appeared  on  the  horizon  dui'ing  the  fearful 
days  of  June,  1848. 

'  I  long  to  press  your,  and  your  husband's,  hands, 
M.  Guizot  wi'ote  to  Madame  Lenormant,  on  the  first 
of  July.  '  God  grant  that  you  may  not  again  have 
to  pass  through  such  terrible  convulsions !  I  can 
think  of  nothing  but  Paris,  and  of  you  in  Paris.  Do 
you  know  that  the  eff"ect  here  has  been  very  good? 
France  needed  to  prove  that  she  was  still  alive.  She 
has  given  this  proof.  A  society  wliich,  after  having 
let  everything  go,  has  shown  that  she  was  capable  of 
defending  herself  in  this  way,  is  not  yet  dead,  or 
likely  to  die.  The  English  say  that  she  must  always 
be  taken  into  consideration  ;  and  they  are  beginning 
to  say  that,  after  having  thrown  Europe  into  con- 
fusion, she  is  showing  the  way  to  escape  from  con- 
fusion. Have  we  really  taken  the  first  decisive  step 
out  of  social  anarchy  f     Is  political  anarchy  now  our 


2G4  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN    PKIVATE    LIFE. 

only  enemy  1     This  would  be  quite  enough ;  and  yet 
it  would  be  a  great  thing  to  have  nothing  worse.' 

Social  anarchy  was  diminishing,  but  political 
anarchy  was  to  have  a  long  duration.  M.  Guizot 
was  not  invited  to  step  into  the  arena  to  oppose  it. 
Several  constituencies  talked  of  sending  him  as  their 
representative  to  the  new  Assembly,  which  was  to 
meet  in  1849  ;  but  whether  from  timidity  or  pru- 
dence, some  of  the  Conservatives  opposed  his  nomina- 
tion, lest  it  should  provoke  hostility.  M.  Guizot 
insisted  on  announcing  publicly,  in  a  short  address 
to  the  newspapers  of  Calvados,  that  he  continued  to 
be,  as  he  had  always  been,  a  Liberal-Conservative, 
without  ceasing  to  be,  from  intimate  conviction  and 
principle,  an  adherent  of  Constitutional  Monarchy. 
But  having  done  this,  he  awaited  in  England  the 
decision  of  his  friends. 

On  the  eighteenth  of  April,  1849,  he  wrote  to  his 
elder  daughter :  — 

'  You  have  not  told  me  the  exact  state  of  your 
throat.  Take  care  of  yourself,  and  bring  it  back  to 
me  quite  cured.  It  is  very  cold  here,  and  it  must 
be  colder  still  on  the  Kent  hills.  I  came  home 
yesterday  at  four  o'clock  covered  with  snow,  and  last 
night  there  was  a  regular  storm.  The  mail  has, 
however,  arnved,  but  without  bringing  me  anything, 
at  least  up  to  the  present  moment.  I  seldom  get  my 
letters  from  Paris  before  three  o'clock.  Yesterday 
there  was  a  deluge  of  newspapers  of  all  sorts ;  fifteen 
of  them  with  articles  on  my  address.  The  Temps, 
the  Pays,  the  Credit,  the  Vraie  EepubUque,  the  Repu- 


RETURN   FROM   EXILE. 


265 


lliqiie,  &c.  Fmy  on  the  part  of  the  Repnbhcans, 
terror  on  that  of  the  Moderates.  I  represent  Monar- 
chy. All  this  will  certainly  not  help  forward  my 
election,  but  will  give  me  the  position  which  suits  me. 
I  am  used  to  a  mixture  of  compliment  and  abuse, 
but  I  never  had  so  much.  We  are  keeping  all  the 
papers  for  you. 

'  No  news  from  Calvados.  I  am  convinced  that 
being  abeady  uneasy,  this  hubbub  of  newspapers 
will  frighten  the  electors  still  more,  and  that  they 
will  take  refuge  in  saying  respectfully  that  their 
minds  are  not  made  up.  We  shall  spend  the  sum- 
mer at  Val- Richer.  Let  us  pray  for  fine  weather. 
Rest,  and  an  agreeable  occupation,  our  own  circle, 
a  pretty  country,  and  fine  weather — I  shall  enjoy 
it  all  exceedingly.' 

M.  Guizot's  candidature  was  given  up.  He  went 
back  to  Val-Richer  in  July,  1849,  a  few  months 
after  the  Act  of  Amnesty,  which  once  more  allowed 
him  and  his  colleagues  to  return  to  their  country. 
He  had  found  in  England  real  friends,  and  a  gene- 
ral sympathy  and  respect  which  profoundly  touched 
him  and  softened  his  exile :  it  was  exile,  however ; 
and  he  rejoiced  greatly  on  finding  himself  back  in 
France,  in  his  beloved  home,  and  suiTOunded  by 
friends  who  came  eagerly  to  welcome  him. 

He  was  anxious,  but  not  alarmed,  at  the  state  of 
the  country. 

'  Do  not  fear  that  I  shall  be  out  of  heart  and  spir- 
its,' he  wrote  to  Mrs.  Austin,  one  of  the  most  intimate 
and  constant  of  his  English  friends.     '  I  am,  indeed, 


266  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

sad,  but  my  sadness  is  not  of  the  kind  that  dejjresses 
and  irritates  the  mind.  I  continue  to  have  faith  in 
my  country's  future,  and  in  the  good  cause  which 
will  in  time  triviniph  in  France.  I  think  that  the 
disease  which  has  attacked  society  in  our  country 
and  in  many  others,  is  very  serious,  and  we  are  in 
one  of  the  most  shameful  phases  of  the  malady ;  but 
I  am  determined  not  to  believe,  and  I  do  not  really 
believe,  that  this  can  be  the  end  of  the  glorious  his- 
tory of  France.  We  shall  yet  recover  from  it.  As 
for  me,  personally,  I  have  enjoyed  so  much  happi- 
ness, and  endm-ed  so  much  sorrow,  both  public  and 
private,  in  the  course  of  my  already  long  life,  that  I 
feel  I  have  no  right  to  complain.  One  of  yom-  most 
chivalrous  noblemen,  the  Duke  of  Ormond,  said, 
after  the  death  of  his  son.  Lord  Ossory,  "I  had 
rather  have  my  dead  son  than  any  other  li\'ing  son," 
I  say  the  same  thing  with  regard  to  my  lost  happi- 
ness. In  my  public  life,  God  has  honoured  me  by  em- 
ploying me  to  effect  three  great  things — public  edu- 
cation, the  foundation  of  a  free  government,  and  the 
preservation  of  peace.  Of  these  three  hard  tasks 
the  third  has  succeeded  beyond  my  expectations; 
the  strain  that  it  is  bearing  at  this  moment  proves  this. 
I  own  that  the  two  former  have  a  doubtful  aspect ; 
but  I  am  convinced  that  it  is  more  in  appearance 
than  in  reality.  We  are  going  through  a  storm.  I 
believe,  firmly,  that  the  opinions  I  have  endeavoured 
to  disseminate,  the  institutions  I  have  tried  to  estab- 
lish, will  be  purified  rather  than  destroyed  by  it.  I 
shall,  perhaps,  not  witness  their  success,  but  I  shall 


KETUEN   FROM   EXILE.  267 

have  watched  over  theii-  infancy.  With  regard  to 
mj  home  hfe,  God  has  taken  from  me  the  loveliest 
and  sweetest  of  the  gifts  He  bestowed  on  me; 
but  they  once  were  mine,  and  I  enjoyed  them  in- 
tensely, and  I  still  enjoy  them  intensely.  I  should 
consider  myself  unjust  and  ungrateful,  not  only 
towards  God,  but  towards  those  excellent  and 
channing  beings  who  were  mine  during  so  many 
years,  if  the  joys  which  they  lavished  on  me  did 
not  still  find  an  echo  in  my  heart.  They  people 
and  charm  my  solitude  to  this  day.  I  ought  not  to 
say  my  solitude,  for  I  have  round  me  my  children, 
who  are  very  happy  and  very  affectionate  to  me. 
But  I  will  tell  you,  my  dear  Mrs.  Austin,  the  hidden 
anxiety  of  which  I  try  never  to  speak.  I  have  lost 
all  feeling  of  safety  in  the  objects  of  my  affections, 
and  I  no  longer  feel  myself  able  to  bear  any  new 
blows  which  may  be  laid  on  me.  May  God  spare 
them  to  me.' 

A  perpetual,  incurable  anxiety  about  those  who 
were  left  to  him  was  indeed  the  secret  malady  which 
constantly  tormented  M.  Guizot's  mind.  He  never 
let  them  feel  the  weight  of  it  by  excessive  and  tire- 
some precautions.  The  crael  recollection  of  past 
griefs  made  his  tenderness  only  still  more  deeply 
felt  in  the  present. 

'Your  letter  on  Thursday,  my  dear  child,'  he 
wrote  to  his  son,  on  the  sixteenth  of  October,  1849, 
'  went  to  my  heart.  No,  certainly,  one  affection  does 
not  need  to  tm-n  out  another  in  order  to  find  a  place 
in  my  heart.     I  love  your  brother  Francois  as  if  he 


268  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

were  with  me  still,  and  I  love  you  as  if  you  had 
always  been  my  only  son.  I  intend  to  talk  to  you 
of  him  ;  to  tell  you  how  excellent,  how  charming-  he 
was,  and  why  I  had  such  hoi^es  of  his  future.  It  is 
for  you,  my  dear  child,  to  realise  those  hopes.  I 
rely  on  tliis,  and  I  will  help  you  by  gi'ving  you  on 
all  occasions  my  sincere  advice  and  warnings. 

'  To  begin  at  once :  put  yovir  college  studies  be- 
fore everything  else,  never  steal  from  them  any  time 
unless  they  can  Avell  spare  it.  Give  all  your  care 
to  doing  this  work  well,  as  well  as  you  can ;  this  is 
the  work  of  greatest  importance  for  me  as  well  as 
for  you,  I  care  more  about  it  than  about  any  little 
commissions  I  may  give  you.  When  I  have  any 
that  are  pressing,  I  will  tell  you  that  they  are  so. 
You  are  right  in  continuing  your  studies  on  the  plan 
which  you  pursued  at  King's  College ;  let  this,  how- 
ever, not  prevent  yom*  conforming  exactly  to  the 
habits,  methods,  and  conditions  of  French  studies, 
and  fully  satisfying  them.  One  must  belong  first  to 
one's  own  country,  and  adopt  all  that  is  good  in  its 
method  of  study,  and  afterwards  one  should  borrow 
all  the  good  one  can  find  in  the  systems  of  other 
countries.  I  am  delighted  that  you  are  going  on  so 
well,  and  are  so  well  pleased  with  a  student's  life. 
You  will  be  able  to  amass  in  it  stores  of  strength 
and  happiness  for  your  public  life  —  strength  for  the 
good  and  happiness  for  the  evil  days. 

'  When  you  have  time  tell  me  a  little  about  the 
French  books  M.  Nisard  makes  you  read  and  the 
remarks  he  makes  on  them.     You  will  not,  however, 


EETURN   FROM    EXILE.  269 

be  obliged  to  take  up  your  time  in  writing  to  me  for 
long ;  we  shall  return  to  Paris  in  a  month,  towards 
the  fifteenth  of  November ;  it  will  be  a  great  delight 
for  us  all.  And  talking  takes  much  less  time  than 
writing,  and  can  be  done  at  an}^  hour.  Farewell, 
my  child,  I  embrace  you  from  my  heart.' 

M.  Guizot  had  the  happiness  of  marrying  his 
daughters  to  his  satisfaction  in  March  and  May,  1850 
—  Conrad  and  Cornelis  de  Witt  became  really  his 
sons  —  and  the  family  circle,  wliile  it  extended,  drew 
round  its  head  with  as  close  an  intimacy  as  ever.  It 
was  a  source  of  great  rest  as  well  as  enjoyment  to 
his  mind.  '  There  is  only  one  position  which  I  envy,' 
he  said,  laughing,  in  earlier  days,  '  it  is  that  of  a  man 
who  has  married  his  daughters  to  his  liking.'  '  I  am 
now  one  of  those  who  ought  to  inspire  envy,'  he 
repeated  afterwards.  All  his  children  were  gathered 
round  him  at  Val-Richer;  he  admitted  into  the 
family  circle  the  only  sister  of  his  sons-in-law,  Ma- 
demoiselle Elisabeth  de  Witt,  as  well  as  their  mater- 
nal aunt,  Mademoiselle  Temminck.  Tlie  latter  spent 
the  last  years  of  her  life  there,  and  died  without  ever 
having  left  Val-Richer.  M.  Guizot  continued  assid- 
uously his  literary  labours,  in  which  the  History  of 
the  English  Revolution  held  tlie  first  place.  A  few 
articles  on  passing  events  and  a  few  short  journeys 
alone  interrupted  its  progress. 

M.   Guizot  wrote  to  his  elder  daughter  from  the 
banks  of  the  Rhine  during  the  summer  of  1850: — 

'  This  day,  again,  is  yours,  my  dear  Henriette.     I 


270        '    MONSIEUR   GUrZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

have  calculated  that  if  I  did  not  write  to  you  until 
to-morrow,  my  letter  would  not  reach  you  before  the 
seventh  instead  of  the  sixth.  As  I  am  far  off,  I  must 
be  very  particular  to  make  up  for  my  sacrifice  in  not 
being  near  you.     It  is  a  real  sacrifice. 

'  God  has  blessed  you,  my  dear  child ;  may  He 
preserve  the  blessings  He  has  granted  you,  may 
He  confer  upon  you  new  ones  every  year,  and  may 
He  enable  you  to  deserve  all  that  He  will  give  you, 
and  to  bow  without  murmuring  before  those  that  He 
withholds  from  you.  To  have  a  lively  enjopnent  of 
His  gifts  and  not  to  murmur  at  His  corrections  — 
this  is  the  whole  of  life.  Soitow  even  without  re- 
pining is  very  bitter,  but  it  does  not  overwhelm  the 
mind.  I  dare  not  hope  that  God  will  always  spare 
you  trials  ;  one  does  not  live,  one  is  not  happy  with- 
out incurring  the  cost.  I  trust  that  at  least  the 
foundation  of  your  happiness  may  not  be  disturbed, 
that  God  may  allow  you  always  to  keep  the  protect- 
ing arm  which  He  has  bestowed  on  you  for  your 
support  in  rough  paths.  I  can  offer  but  one  prayer 
for  you,  my  dear  child,  and  it  is  the  same  for  both 
of  you.  Take  care  of  each  other,  do  not  indulge  too 
much  in  the  blind  and  hasty  confidence  of  youth. 
I  shall  soon  be  with  you  to  watch  over  you  myself, 
as  much  as  it  is  possible  to  do  so. 

'  I  have  not  yet  had  a  line  from  any  of  you.  I 
expected  a  letter  yesterday.  In  reckoning  over  again 
I  am  not  much  surprised  at  my  mistake.  It  was  a 
mistake,  however.  I  have  seen  Guillaunie's  hand- 
writing on  a  letter  which  he  sent  me  on  from  Paris. 


RETURN  FROM  EXILE.  271 

This  was  something-,  but   I  hope  for  better  things 
to-day. 

'  I  shall  probably  spend  the  naorning  at  Stolzenfels, 
the  King  of  Prussia's  fine  castle  on  the  Rhine.    I  am 
very  well,  and  I  greatly  enjoy  the  very  pretty  scenery 
which  suiTOunds  me.     Yesterday  I  climbed,  stick  in 
hand,  to  the  highest  point  of  my  favourite  hill  among 
the  seven  or  eig-ht  which  enclose  Ems.     I  thoug-ht 
that  there  would  be  some  glory  in  this  ascent.     Not 
in  the  least.     A  wide  path,  rather  steep,  but  even 
and  well  kept,  reaches  to  the  very  top,  with  benches 
at  intervals  on  which  one  may  enjoy  at  one's  ease 
the  changing  views  of  the  valley  and  the  river,  which 
are  seen  alternately  as  the  road  turns  at  every  500 
steps.     Three  quarters  of  an  hour  to  ascend  and 
twenty  minutes  to  descend.     It  is  a  delightful  walk. 
After  dinner  I  went  to   see  Nassau,  a  very  pretty 
little  town,  which  I  reached  in  an  hoiii*.     Above  the 
town,  on  a  solitary  height,  crowned  with  dark-green 
woods,  stand    the   ruins    of  the  ancient  Castle,  the 
birthplace  of  the  House  of  Nassau;  in  the  town  it- 
self, surrounded  by  fine  lawns  and  beautiful  modern 
trees  —  catalpas,  Aveeping  willows,  and  tulip-trees — 
stands  the  Castle  (restored  and  enlarged  thirty  years 
ago)  of  Baron   Stein,  who  retired  thither  in    1814, 
after  quarrelling  with  tlie  King  of  Prussia  for  not 
having  kejjt  the  promise  made  to  the  national  party 
who  had  delivered   his  kingdom.     I  went  in  and 
asked  to  see  the  room  in  which  M.  Stein  lived  and 
died  ;  it  is  in  a  tower  which  he  built  himself,  at  one 
of  the  angles  of  the  Castle.     An  old  Beschiit^erinn, 


272  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

well  di'essed,  and  with  a  good,  gentle,  gi-ave  face, 
came  to  open  the  door.  In  Baron  Stein's  study  his 
writing-desk,  and  all  the  furniture,  are  in  ebony;  it 
contains  a  recumbent  statuette  of  Christ,  after  the 
descent  from  the  cross,  in  white  marble  ;  the  por- 
traits of  Luther,  Melancthon,  of  some  ancestors,  and 
of  Baron  Stein  himself  Everywhere  appear  his 
arms ;  there  are  bas-reliefs  of  saints,  —  St.  Adalbert, 
St.  Alexander  Nevski, —  all  this  Christian  and  feudal 
medley  in  a  modern,  brand-new  building ;  deep  and 
elevated  memories  and  sentiments  mingled  with  a 
certain  amount  of  childish  affectation.  I  offered  a 
tlialer  to  the  Besclmtzerinn  as  I  went  out ;  she  pushed 
away  my  hand  gently,  —  she  did  not  want  either  to 
accept  the  money  or  to  offend  me ;  she  was  pleased 
by  my  homage  to  the  memory  of  her  old  master,  and 
did  not  wish  to  be  paid.  I  did  not  press  her,  and  I 
went  away. 

'The  Castle  is  inhabited  only  by  Baron  Stein's 
daughter,  the  Countess  von  Giech,  a  widow,  already 
passed  middle  age.  I  did  not  give  my  name.  I 
should  have  had  to  see  her,  and  I  wanted  only  to  see 
the  relics  of  her  dead  father.' 

Hardly  two  years  had  elapsed  since  the  fall  of  the 
political  edifice  to  which  M.  Guizot  had  attached 
'  the  labour  of  his  life  and  the  worldly  glory  of  his 
name,'  *  when  the  King,  Louis-Philippe,  passed  away 
from  earth,  —  he  died  at  Claremont  on  the  twenty- 
sixth  of  August,  1850. 


*  From  M.  Guizot's  wilL 


f./^f*r/lT       - 


/iiti'Jtr.n^- 


LOUIS   PHIl.irPE, 


RETURN   FROM   EXILE.  273 

Some  of  ]\L  Guizot's  cliildi-en  were  at  tliat  time 
travelling  in  England,  he  wrote  to  them  imme- 
diately :  — 

'  When  you  arrived  at  the  Brunswick  Hotel,  you 
must  have  found  General  Dumas'  letter  announcing 
the  King's  death.  I  suppose  that  you  start  to-day  for 
Ketterinoham.  You  should  all  three  wear  con-ect 
mourning  for  the  King.  It  is  a  political  and  personal 
duty.  You  are  in  England,  so  wear  exactly  the  sort 
of  mom'ning  which  the  English  would  wear  for  their 
King. 

'  Write  to  Madame  Mollien,  who  is  at  Claremont, 
and  ask  her  to  be  so  good  as  to  present  your  re- 
spectful sympathy  to  the  Queen.  A  week  before  you 
leave,  write  to  Madame  Mollien,  or  General  Dumas, 
to  ask  if  the  Queen  has  any  commands  for  you  ;  and 
say  that  you  do  not  ask  to  pay  your  respects  to  her, 
as  you  do  not  know  if  she  can  see  anyone,  but  that 
if  she  would  receive  you,  you  would  be  very  happy 
to  wait  upon  her,  and  very  grateful  for  the  permis- 
sion. 

'  The  King's  death  did  not  take  me  by  suiprise. 
It  is  an  interesting  event  for  the  world,  and  especially 
for  me.  He  occupied  a  large  place  in  my  life,  and 
my  name  has  been  very  much  connected  with  his. 
The  world  has  seen  very  few  such  good  kings,  as, 
on  the  whole,  he  was.  He  gave  France  eighteen 
years  of  the  most  just,  mild,  free,  and  sensible 
government  that  she  has  ever  known,  or  that,  prob- 
ably, she  ever  will  know.' 

The  name  of  M.  Guizot  was  never  connected  with 

18 


274  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

any  other  government  than  the  one  which  he  here 
portrays.  Ah-eady  the  events  which  definitely  ex- 
cluded him  from  public  life  were  looming  in  the 
distance,  and  the  consistency  of  his  life,  as  well  as 
the  freedom  of  his  opinions  were  destined  to  remain 
intact. 

On  the  eighth  of  July,  1850,  he  wrote  to  M.  Pisca- 
tory, who,  in  spite  of  their  occasional  differences 
of  conduct  and  opinions,  had  long  been  his  intimate 
friend :  — 

'  It  is  always  well  for  you  to  write  to  me,  my 
dear  friend,  and  I  always  thank  you  for  it.  When- 
ever we  agree,  I  am  delighted ;  and  whenever  we 
disagree,  I  should  always  like  to  know  the  reason. 
In  the  present  case,  I  should  like  you  very  much  to 
be  in  the  right.  I  do  not  consider  a  Republic  as  in 
itself  the  best  form  of  government.  I  prefer  and 
approve  more  of  a  Constitutional  Monarchy.  I 
know,  however,  that  a  Republic  may  be  both  great 
and  excellent,  and  as  far  as  I  am  concerned,  it  would 
suit  me  very  well.  Unfortunately,  I  also  tliink  that 
this  kind  of  Government  demands  more  good  sense 
and  morality  than  any  other.  Now,  the  present  Re- 
public is  not  the  result  of  om-  good  sense  and  moral- 
ity, but  of  om-  want  of  good  sense  and  morality. 
Hence  my  views  as  to  the  present  and  the  futiire. 

'There  are  two  men  with  whom  I  am  as  well 
acquainted  as  if  I  had  spent  my  life  with  them,  — 
Cromwell  and  Washington.  You  may  be  certain 
that  neither  the  one  nor  the  other  would  have  be- 
lieved for  a  moment  in  the  Republic  we  now  have 


RETURN  FROM  EXILE.  275 

—  the  one  would  have  overthrown  it,  the  other 
would  have  had  nothing  to  do  with  it.  If  you  can 
keep  it,  and  at  the  same  time  refonn  it,  do  so. 
Meanwhile  I  am  patient,  and  I  persist  in  my  opinion. 

'  I  euthely  agree  in  all  you  say  of  the  present 
state  of  afftiirs.  The  President  may  tranquilly  await 
1852 ;  he  will  be  re-elected,  because  there  is  no  one 
else  to  elect.  He  will  be,  just  as  we  said  in  1830, 
"  the  king  of  our  choice."  And  once  re-elected,  it 
is  indeed  possible  that  he  may  not  remain  as  he  is 
now,  that  his  position  may  be  changed.  I  do  not 
look  forward  so  far ;  but  I  see  the  possible  contin- 
gency that  you  mention.  We  shall  see  what  hap- 
pens then.  I  do  not  think  that  even  then,  however 
great  the  change  of  names,  the  realities  will  be 
essentially  different  from  what  they  are  now.  What 
we  now  have  may  last  but  cannot  alter.  We  are 
under  a  tree  which  has  no  roots,  and  which  does  not 
grow ;  it  grows  neither  above  the  ground  nor  under 
the  ground,  but  it  stands  and  may  stand  for  a  long 
time. 

'  If  they  want  you  to  be  in  the  committee  of 
twenty-five  during  the  prorogation  I  do  not  see  why 
you  should  refuse.  You  should  neither  seek  nor 
avoid  it.  You  are  not  one  of  those  men  who  fly 
from  difficult  or  perilous  duties,  and  you  are  one  of 
those  who  always  succeed  in  escaping  from  a  diffi- 
culty after  having  got  into  it.  Do  you  remember 
when  you  jumped  over  the  Pont  de  la  Concorde  into 
the  river  to  save  a  man  from  disowning  ?  You  did 
not  save  your  man,  but  you  got  out  of  the  water 


276  MOXSIEUR   GUIZOT    m   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

very   well.     This   is  what  would   happen   to   you 
again.' 

The  new  joy  brought  into  M.  Guizot's  family  by 
the  birth  of  two  little  grand-daughters,  was  disturbed 
by  the  delicate  health  of  one  of  them ;  his  elder 
daughter  stayed  in  Paris  to  niirse  her  sick  child. 

On  the  sixteenth  of  July,  1851,  M.  Guizot  wrote 
to  her  in  an  interval  of  hope :  —  'I  am  delighted  to 
liear  of  this  continued  improvement,  my  dear  child. 
I  quite  hope  that  the  Divine  Goodness  and  human 
care  Avill  save  this  poor  little  one.  No  human  mys- 
tery is  greater,  in  my  opinion,  than  the  destiny  of 
those  creatures  who  are  scarcely  born  into  the  world 
before  they  have  to  leave  it,  without  knowing  any- 
thing of  life,  hardly  conscious  of  tlieir  own  exist- 
ence. I  humbly  accept  the  designs  of  God  with 
regard  to  them,  because  the  designs  are  His ;  but 
they  are  absolutely  impenetrable  to  me.  I  trust 
that  yom-  Elisa  Avill  not  have  this  mysterious  fate, 
that  she  may  really  take  hold  of  life  —  that  she  may 
know  and  hear  you,  smile  at  you,  speak  to  you,  and 
that  she  will  afterwards  have  her  share  of  human 
joys  and  sorrows.  I  can  follow  her  in  this  career, 
but  if  to-morrow  she  were  taken  away  from  us,  I 
should  lose  her  altogether,  I  should  moum  for  her 
almost  without  having  seen  her,  she  would  be  like  a 
ray  of  light,  promising  a  beautiful  day,  and  suddenly 
disappearing  in  darkness.  I  pray,  I  hope  with  you, 
my  dear  child.' 

God  took  back  His  gift.     M.  de  "Witt  was  as  sad 


THE  COUP  d'etat.  277 

and  as  suffering  as  his  wife,  and  they  both  set  out 
to  pass  the  Avinter  in  Rome.  Pohtics  were  in  a  very 
anxious  state,  and  the  separation  was,  in  consequence, 
especially  painful.  M.  Guizot  wrote  more  frequently 
than  ever  to  his  children  to  make  up  for  the  igno- 
rance which  absence  entailed.  He  wrote  on  the 
fifteenth  of  November,  1851  :  — 

'  Here  we  are,  re-established  in  Paris,  in  the  midst 
of  the  turmoil.  I  do  not  take  much  pleasure  in  it, 
and  I  shall  lose  a  gi-eat  deal  of  time  without  any 
adequate  result.     But  it  cannot  be  helped. 

'  Guillaume  is  again  with  us.  I  am  much  pleased 
with  him.  He  is  interested  in  his  new  studies.  On 
the  day  after  to-morrow  I  shall  resume  my  philo- 
sopliical  conversations  Avith  him  and  Comelis.  I 
read,  this  morning,  a  dissertation  of  his  on  the  con- 
nexion between  morality  and  beauty  in  literatui'e  ; 
it  was  full  of  excellent  and  onginal  ideas,  well 
arranged  and  well  expressed.     He  works  hard. 

'  I  tm-n  from  Guillaume  to  politics.  The  situation 
is  very  critical  and  the  strain  is  great.  There  is 
considerable  animation  in  Paris,  that  is  to  say,  in 
the  political  world  ;  in  the  general  public  there  is 
more  than  tranquillity,  there  is  apatliy.  To  tell  the 
truth,  no  one  is  much  frightened.  On  the  day  be- 
fore yesterday,  the  believers  in  a  crisis  were,  or 
thought  themselves,  frightened ;  there  was  a  report 
of  an  intended  "  coup  d'etat,"  in  the  night ;  the  doors 
of  the  Assembly  were  closed,  and  the  leaders  ar- 
rested. Thirty  or  forty  people  assembled  at  the 
house  of  M.  Baze,  the  Questeur,  and  there  they  dis- 


278  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

cussed  eagerly,  during  the  first  half  of  the  night,  the 
possible  means  of  defence.  No  attack  came,  and 
every  one  went  to  bed.  M.  Berryer  asked  M.  Dupin 
if  there  were  "any  secret  door  by  means  of  which 
I  could  return  to  the  Chamber  and  defend  you  if 
you  were  attacked?"  "Upon  my  word,"  said  M. 
Dupin,  "  I  am  looking  for  a  door  through  which  I 
could  escape." 

'  I  will  tell  you  how  I  arrange  my  life.  I  get  up 
at  seven  and  work  till  ten  ;  then  I  di-ess.  I  receive 
visitors  from  eleven  to  one,  which  means  nearly  two. 
I  return  to  my  study.  I  go  out  at  three,  either  to 
the  Academy  or  to  see  Madame  de  Lieven.  I  come 
home  at  five.  Pliilosophical  conversation.  In  the 
evening  I  go  out  as  usual.  I  am  determined  to  pre- 
serve my  hours  of  solitude,  although  it  will  be  diffi- 
cult to  do  so.  I  positively  will  finish  the  works  that 
I  have  begun. 

■ '  M.  de  Montalembert's  reception  at  the  Academy 
is  fixed  for  the  eighteenth  of  December.  I  shall 
miss  you  greatly.  I  promise  to  think  of  you  during 
my  speech. 

'Your  descriptions  please  me  much.  Do  not, 
however,  tire  yoiu-self  too  much  by  writing.  The 
ceremonies  of  the  Sistine  Chapel  produced  on  you 
exactly  the  impression  I  predicted.  The  Roman 
Catholic  religion  began  and  developed  in  such  mis- 
erable and  barbarous  times  and  nations  that  the  two 
weapons  —  external  pomp  and  authority  —  Avere  in- 
dispensable, and  were  perhaps  the  only  efficacious 
ones.     Only  visible  beauty  and  power  could  reach 


THE  COUP  d'etat.  279 

the  soul ;  the  imagination  had  to  be  either  charmed 
or  frightened.  Hence  the  two  essential  characteris- 
tics of  the  Catholic  Church  —  external  splendour 
and  the  complete  separation  of  the  clergy  from  the 
people.  When  the  human  mind  became  much  more 
active  and  difficult  to  please,  it  was  necessary  to 
admit  moral  and  intellectual  life,  and  each  individ- 
ual Christian  to  a  larger  share  of  privileges.  This 
is  the  explanation  of  the  two  principal  characteris- 
tics of  the  Refomiation,  predominance  of  internal 
feeling  over  outward  pomp  in  the  services  of  the 
Church,  and  the  ^predominance  of  the  laity  over  the 
clergy  in  its  discipline.  The  two  systems  corre- 
sponded with  the  state  of  society  and  of  men's  minds 
at  the  time. 

'  Your  grief,  ray  dear  child,  will  never  leave  you. 
God  will,  I  hope,  give  you  better  consolation  than 
worldly  distractions,  but  the  best  and  dearest  con- 
solation will  never  entirely  lieal  the  wound  caused 
by  the  blow  which  has  fallen  on  jou.  I  have  several 
times  in  my  life  been  severely  wounded,  and  in  turn 
marvellously  cured.  My  joys  and  soitows  are,  as 
you  know,  all  round  me  in  my  room,  I  cannot  lift 
my  eyes  without  meeting  the  remembrance  of  all  that 
has  been  sweetest  and  saddest  in  my  life :  they  are 
so  intimately  blended  in  my  mind  that  I  no  longer 
know  them  apart,  when  I  look  at  those  dear  faces  I 
feel  at  the  same  time  all  the  happiness  and  all  the 
grief  that  tliey  have  caused  me.  Nothing  that  we 
have  felt  deeply  is  ever  effaced ;  the  stomis  which 
agitate  the  heart  calm  down  on  the  surface  as  they 


280  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

do  in  nature,  but  the  treasures  which  have  reached 
its  inmost  depths  remain  there.  Your  dear  little 
Elisa's  memory  will  live  on  in  your  heart,  together 
with  the  new  treasures  which  will,  I  ho2:)e,  be  granted 
to  you  by  Pi-ovidence.  Whatever  your  life  may  be 
in  the  future,  she  has  taken  her  place  in  it  for  ever.' 

The  coup  cfetat  of  the  second  of  December,  and  a 
slight  indisposition  on  M.  de  Montalembert's  part, 
postponed  his  reception  by  the  Academie  Fran9aise. 
It  took  place  on  the  fifth  of  Februar}^,  1852  ;  on  the 
next  day  M.  Guizot  wrote  to  his  daughter :  '  Just  a 
few  lines  this  morning,  my  dear  child,  for  your 
pleasure  and  mine.  The  reception  at  the  Academy 
was  very  fine ;  an  immense  crowd ;  more  than  200 
people  went  away  because  there  was  no  room.  The 
excitement  was  general  and  sincere.  My  speech  is 
entii-ely  and  completely  reported  in  the  Dehats.  The 
proof  was  sent  at  once  to  the  censor,  and  some  sup- 
pressions and  excisions  were  made.  The  higher 
powers  ordered  the  suppressions  to  be  suppressed, 
and  the  speech  to  appear  as  it  was  delivered.  Sup- 
pressions were  also  made  in  M.  de  Montalembert's 
speech,  and  orders  were  given  to  allow  it  also  to 
stand  —  not  altogether,  however;  two  or  three  pas- 
sages were  still  to  be  left  out.  This  is  the  first  time, 
I  think,  that  the  censorship  has  been  applied  to  the 
Academical  speeches  since  1811.  But  the  censorship 
now-a-days  is  very  moderate  and  liberal  compared 
with  that  in  1811.  M.  de  Chateaubriand's  speech 
was  suppressed  entirely  and  altogether,  neither  de- 


THE  COUP  d'etat.  281 

livered  nor  printed.  Even  in  this  we  see  progress. 
You  will  recognise  my  optimism  in  this  sentence.  I 
had  a  mind  to  send  you  a  copy  of  my  speech  to  read 
before  it  was  published,  just  as  if  you  had  been 
present.    I  gave  it  up  for  fear  of  postal  indiscretions. 

'  Lord  John  Russell  has  severely  but  very  justly 
rebuked  Lord  Palmerston,  who  defended  himself 
very  feebly,  and  with  considerable  embaiTassment. 
I  am  delighted.  Justice,  even  if  tardy,  is  only  the 
more  conspicuous.  I  do  not  always  expect  even 
tardy  justice  in  this  world ;  we  often  have  to  wait 
for  it  until  we  reach  a  better  world  than  this.  But 
when  it  comes  soon  enough  for  mortal  eyes  to  behold, 
it  is  a  satisfactory  and  refreshing  spectacle. 

'  Good-bye,  kisses  for  you  both.  Time  is  going 
on,  however.  We  have  reached  the  top  of  the  hill 
which  separates  us ;  we  are  on  the  slope  of  the  right 
side.' 

He  wrote  again  on  the  twenty-fifth  of  February : — 

'  I  felt  certain,  my  dear  child,  that  you  would  like 
my  speech,  especially  the  passage  you  mention.  I, 
too,  have  long  admired  and  loved  those  words  of  om- 
Saviour,*  not  only  for  their  great  goodness,  but  for 
their  profound  truth.  A  common  fault  of  the  Catholic 
Church  as  well  as  of  the  Protestant  is  to  refuse  to 
acknowledge  this  trath ;  exclusively  occupied  with 
the  unity  of  the  faith  and  of  the  ultimate  end  in 
view,  they  forget  that  there  may  be  many  roads  and 


*  '  In   my    Father's   house   are  many   mansions.' —  St.    John, 
xiv.  2.  —  Tr. 


282  MONSIEUK   GUIZOT    IN   PEIVATE   LIFE. 

many  mansions,  and  tliey  become  naiTow  and  tyran- 
nical. The  Catholic  Church  in  its  vast  sphere,  and 
the  Protestants  in  their  little  corner,  by  this  means 
distort  and  belie  the  Gospel  which,  while  there  is 
absolute  unity  in  its  doctrine,  is  broad  and  liberal 
in  its  charity.  If  I  were  twenty  years  younger  I 
would  devote  my  life  to  setting  this  truth  in  a  pow- 
erful light;  it  is  especially  applicable  and  needful 
in  the  present  state  of  society  and  opinion,  and 
should  be  recognised  and  loudly  proclaimed  by  all 
Christians  —  Catholics  or  Protestants  —  if  they  wish 
Christianity  to  recover  its  strong  and  salutary  in- 
fluence. But  I  am  too  old,  I  can  still  see  and  point 
out  the  truth,  but  I  can  no  longer  undertake  for  her 
sake  those  long  and  ardent  conflicts  which  are  her 
condition  and  her  glory  here  upon  eartli. 

'  I  will  tell  you  in  what  respect  M.  de  Montalem- 
bert  has  wronged  the  revolution  of  1789  and  the 
Constituent  Assembly.  All  that  he  says  of  it  is  true, 
all  the  reproaches  he  addi-esses  to  those  times  are 
well  founded ;  but  he  has  omitted  to  say  three  things 
which  are  equally  true  and  which  he  ought  to  have 
taken  into  account. 

'  First.  Good  and  evil  are  so  intimately  mingled 
in  every  human  act  and  event  that  in  the  best  and 
most  useful  evil  still  abounds  —  moral  and  material 
evil  —  witness  the  religious  wars,  persecutions,  in- 
iquities, and  madnesses,  in  the  midst  of  the  propaga- 
tion of  Christianity.  This  is  not  a  sufficient  reason 
for  being  silent  as  to  the  good  which  was  mixed 
Avith  the  evil,  or  for  confounding  both  in  the  same 
anathema. 


THE  cour  d'etat.  283 

'  Second.  In  spite  of  tlie  false  ideas  and  lax 
morals  of  1789  good  intentions  predominated;  tins 
is  an  important  and  attenuating  circumstance,  and 
ought  never  to  be  forgotten  in  judging  or  speaking 
of  this  period. 

'Third.  The  Revolution  of  1789  has  not  been 
so  unproductive,  or  the  Constituent  Assembly  so 
impotent  and  sterile,  as  Montalembert  asserts ;  a  great 
deal  of  its  work  is  still  going  on  in  the  actual  state 
of  our  society,  and  in  the  goodness  and  justice  which 
still  survive  amidst  its  faults  and  foibles.  If  we  were 
suddenly  transported  back  to  the  France  of  one 
hundred  and  fifty  years  ago,  we  could  not  endure 
the  sight  of  its  absurdities,  oppressions,  and  iniquities. 
The  ills  we  now  endure  must  not  make  us  forget 
those  from  which  we  have  been  delivered.' 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

1852-58. 

LITERARY  WORK PLEASURE  IN  HIS  GRANDCHILDREN. 

It  became  more  and  more  easy  for  M.  Guizot  to 
be  perfectly  impartial  in  his  judgment  of  contem- 
porary events.  After  the  coup  cfetat  he  definitely 
gave  up  public  life  to  devote  himself  to  those  philo- 
sophical and  historical  studies  in  which  he  took  an 
equally  eagei*  delight  both  in  the  beginning  and  in 
the  end  of  his  life.  He  still  preserved  his  passionate 
interest  in  the  politics  of  his  country.  He  was  no 
longer  an  actor ;  his  part  henceforward  was  to  be 
only  a  spectator ;  sometimes,  however,  a  '  consulting 
counsel.' 

He  wrote  soon  afterwards  to  M.  Piscatory :  — 
'  You  say  that  this  proud  impartiality  has  shocked 
some  of  our  friends  and  aUies.  I  expected  this.  I 
am  determined  to  allow  myself  the  satisfaction  of 
keeping  out  of  parties  and  coteries  as  well  as  out  of 
crowds.  I  ought,  at  least,  to  be  pei-mitted  to  regain 
my  liberty  as  a  set-off  against  my  defeat.  I  rejoice 
in  ha^^ng  some  friends  like  youi'self  who  agree  with 
me.' 


LITERARY    WORK.  285 

On  the  eleventh  of  March,  1852,  he  wrote  to  his 
elder  daughter :  — 

'  I  have  just  finished  my  second  campaign  of  din- 
ners :  on  the  day  before  yesterday,  at  Admiral 
Mackau's,  where  I  met  M.  de  Falloux ;  yesterday, 
accompanied  by  your  sister  and  Cornelis,  with 
Madame  de  Champouis,  to  meet  Marshal  Vaillant, 
the  conqueror  or  liberator  of  Rome ;  to-day  at  M. 
de  Hatzfeldt's.  I  have  another  invitation  for  Tues- 
day from  M.  Mole.  Afterwards  I  shall  rest.  This 
sort  of  life  does  not  please  me  at  all ;  in  the  first 
place  in  itself,  for  I  had  rather  dine  at  home ;  and 
also  because  I  cannot  return  these  civilities,  even  by 
asking  people  to  come  to  me  in  the  evening.  I  was 
quite  right  not  to  resume  my  Tuesdays,  economy 
and  politics  equally  forbid  them.  In  order  to  pre- 
serve, as  I  intend,  entire  freedom  of  speech,  I  must 
not  have  too  many  people  talking  round  me.  On 
the  whole,  I  have  led  a  very  retired  life  this  winter, 
and  I  hope  it  will  be  still  more  retired  at  Val-Richer. 
I  cannot  tell  you  how  anxious  I  am  to  finish  the 
woi'ks  I  have  beafun. 

'  My  bad  spirits  yesterday  were  in  consequence 
of  the  Law  of  Public  Education.*  I  cannot  bear 
to  see  anything  spoiled  which  might  be  so  good. 
There  are  excellent  reforms  which  mig-ht  have  been 


*  The  decree  of  March  ninth,  1852,  entirely  modified  the  or- 
ganization and  the  discipline  of  the  University.  It  prescribed  a 
new  system  under  which  the  principal  feature  was  to  be  the  bifur- 
cation, that  is  to  say,  dividing  the  students  into  students  of  science 
and  students  of  literature  after  the  first  few  years  of  study. 


286  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

made,  both  in  the  University  and  in  the  Educa- 
tional Laws.  The  President  might  have  passed 
them  openly  and  without  opposition  ;  they  would 
have  been  useful  to  himself  and  liis  government, 
and  at  the  same  time  good  for  the  present  state  of 
the  public  mind  and  education  in  France.  He  has 
entirely  missed  his  aim  and  misunderstood  his  own 
interests  as  well  as  those  of  the  country.  He  has 
destroyed  all  the  good  there  was  in  his  uncle's  uni- 
versity, and  he  has  not  supplied  its  place,  as  he 
might  have  done,  with  anything  good  of  his  own. 
He  has  degraded  and  broken  an  instrument  which 
he  might  have  made  excellent ;  and  he  has  done  this 
rather  from  carelessness  than  from  any  bad  inten- 
tion. It  is  sad.  I  am  so  unfortunate  as  to  have 
very  decided  and  well-considered  opinions  on  the 
subject.  I  thought  about  it,  and  was  engaged  in  it 
for  four  years.  I  shall  certainly,  if  I  live,  allow 
myself  the  satisfaction  of  leaving  a  record,  not  only 
of  what  I  did,  but  of  what  I  thought  and  proposed 
to  do  during  the  four  years  that  I  was  Minister  of 
Public  Education.  It  is  one  of  the  passages  in  my 
life  to  which  I  attach  the  most  importance,  and  I 
wish  to  leave  a  full  and  accurate  account  of  it. 

'  Our  heart  is  strangely  constituted.  It  was  in 
this  house  that  I  lost  your  mother  and  brother,  who 
—  with  you  —  were  my  greatest  sources  of  happi- 
ness, and  I  am  as  attached  to  this  place  as  if  I  had 
had  nothing  but  happiness  in  it. 

'  I  am  under  the  fire  of  the  Academies.  I  spend 
two  mornings  a-week  at  the  Academic  Fran9aise  in 


LITERARY   WORK.  287 

looking  over  examination  papers.  Did  I,  or  did 
Guillaiime,  tell  you  that  we  were  going  to  projjose 
as  subjects  for  prizes,  essays  on  the  works  and 
genius  of  the  gi'eat  wiiters  of  antiqiiity  —  Thueyd- 
ides,  Demostlienes,  Livy,  Tacitus,  &c.  Guillaume 
is  delighted,  and  he  is  determined  to  compete  in 
honour  of  one  of  his  literary  heroes.  I  am  very 
glad  for  his  sake  ;  it  will  be  an  excellent  exercise 
and  time  well  employed,  and  perhaps  a  beginning 
of  success  in  life.' 

He  wrote  on  the  twelfth  of  April,  1852,  to  his 
son,  who  had  gone  to  pay  a  idsit  to  his  daughter  in 
Rome,  and  who  was  beginning  his  essay  on  Me- 
nander : — 

'  My  dear  cliild,  I  am  glad  that  you  are  so  de- 
liglited  with  all  you  see.  It  is  a  wliolesome  pleas- 
ure. I  do  not  care  for  frivolous  amusements ;  but 
pleasures  which  are  valuable,  which  develope  our 
mental  faculties  instead  of  flattering  our  weaknesses, 
are  good  and  useful.  You  are  on  the  tlu-eshokl  of 
life,  and  you  will  have  your  trials.  I  trust  that 
happiness  will  one  day  be  yours,  the  right  sort  of 
happiness,  such  as  you  desire  for  yourself  Yoii 
must  wait  patiently  for  it,  and  ratlier  endeavour  to 
deserve  it  than  go  in  search  of  it.  Our  destiny  con- 
sists of  two  parts,  the  one  is  hidden  from  us  and 
God  settles  it  according  to  His  will ;  the  other  de- 
pends upon  oiu'selves,  and  this  is  the  only  one 
which  we  ought  to  trouble  ourselves  about.  As  to 
the  former,  all  we  can  do  is  to  have  faith  —  do  what 
we  may,  we  can  neither  foresee  it  nor  alter  it.     You 


288  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

are  right  to  be  ambitious.  Ambition  is  one  of  the 
best  of  youthful  passions.  It  is  a  wish  for  distinc- 
tion unalloyed  by  any  of  the  bad  feelings  which  are 
often  mixed  with  it  in  later  life.  One  is  sometimes 
too  ambitious  at  forty,  but  never  at  twenty.  You 
must  tell  me  what  are  the  objects  of  your  ambition. 

'  I  am  not  astonished  at  the  impression  made  on 
you  by  the  amount  of  light  in  the  South.  It  makes 
the  great  difference  in  the  climate.  I  have  retained 
such  a  lively  impression  of  this  from  my  infancy, 
that  even  now,  after  nearly  fifty  years  spent  in  the 
north,  whenever  I  shut  my  eyes  I  see  the  sky  and 
the  sunshine  of  the  south.  The  light  which  formerly 
used  to  rejoice  my  eyes  has  remained  treasured  up 
in  my  mind. 

'  We  have  settled  the  subjects  for  prizes  at  the 
Academy.  On  Thursday  we  shall  certainly  adopt 
M.  de  Montalembert's  second  proposal,  "An  essay 
on  English  Political  Orators."  It  is  too  large  and 
rather  too  modern.  Politics  will  occupy  too  much 
space  —  but  never  mind  —  these  five  literary  com- 
positions on  gi-eat  men  and  great  times  suddenly 
breaking  the  silence  of  oiu'  own  degenerate  day  will 
have  a  good  result.  Do  not  trust  too  much  to  the 
syllabus  for  direction  in  composing  your  essay  on 
Menander,  it  is  clever  but  vague  ;  it  opens  views 
without  tracing  paths.  "We  will  talk  of  this.  You 
have  quite  enough  materials  at  present  for  your 
work.  I  suppose  the  prize  will  be  given  in  1854. 
When  you  return  you  must  get  Meineclie  and  carry 
it  to  Val-Richer.     I  hope  that  we  shall  both  be  able 


LITERARY   WORK.  289 

to  go  there  on  the  fifteenth  of  June.  We  are  wait- 
ing impatiently  for  warm  weather,  it  is  fine  but  still 
cold.  My  gardener  writes :  "The  frost  continues; 
not  a  drop  of  rain  has  fallen  for  six  weeks ;  the 
ground  is  as  dry  as  wood  and  very  contrary' ' ' 
(acariatre). 

A  life  of  complete  independence,  and,  although  in 
retirement,  actively  and  usefully  employed,  with  his 
children  all  round  him,  was  the  one  chosen  by  M 
Guizot,  and  never  relinquished  by  him.  He  found  a 
tender  satisfaction  in  the  happiness  of  those  around 
him. 

'  My  dear  Cornells,'  he  wrote  on  the  twenty-first 
of  June,  1852,  to  one  of  his  sons-in-law,  'it  is  to 
you  that  I  write  on  your  wife's  birthday.  I  feel  that 
it  is  a  very  hajipy  day  for  us  all  three.  I  used  to  be 
very  anxious,  more  anxious  than  I  ever  told  to  any- 
body, about  my  daughters'  future ;  I  was  very  fas- 
tidious for  them  and  consequently  very  uneasy.  You 
and  your  brother  have  realised  all  my  dreams  and 
surpassed  my  expectations.  What  more  can  I  say  ? 
As  regards  myself,  if  I  have  ever  been  of  any  use  in 
this  world,  I  am  rewarded  for  it  by  the  happiness  of 
my  daughters ;  and  it  is  through  you  two  that  it  has 
come  to  me.  May  God  keep  you  just  as  you  are, 
and  in  the  same  worldly  position.  I  do  not  consider 
it  to  be  my  duty  to  wish  for  fewer  and  less  exalted 
things  as  I  grow  older,  than  I  did  in  my  youth ;  my 
inclinations  do  not  point  that  way.  I  am  just  as  ex- 
acting and  ambitious  —  perhaps  more  so  than  I  used 
to  be,  but  in  tnith  your  domestic  happiness  is  so 

19 


290  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

perfect,  that  I  ask  for  iiotliing  better  in  tliat  respect. 
As  to  your  external  and  public  life  I  ask  for  some- 
thing more  and  something  different,  and  tvhatever 
happens  I  hope  that  this  will  come.  You  are  made 
for  pubhc  life ;  in  it  you  will  do  good  to  others  and 
honour  to  yom-self  Wherever  you  may  be,  and 
whatever  you  do,  continue,  my  dear  children,  to  be 
closely  united,  it  will  be  through  life,  and  for  you 
all,  a  source  of  great  happiness  and  great  strength. 
A  sincere  and  intimate  union  between  five  or  six 
people  is  a  much  more  rare  and  more  jiowerful  engine 
than  peoi^le  think ;  and  thus  I  conclude  my  homily  of 
the  twenty-second  of  June,  and  I  trust  that  this 
prayer,  at  any  rate,  will  be  granted.' 

Twenty  years  later  M.  Guizot  repeated  the  same 
pious,  tender,  and  paternal  prayer  in  his  will :  — 

'  God  has  given  me  great  blessings,  great  trials, 
and  again  great  blessings.  He  bestowed  ujjon  me 
the  matchless  favour  of  liAang  in  the  very  closest 
intimacy  with  minds  and  hearts  of  the  highest  dis- 
tinction. My  dearest  relations  satisfied  my  most 
ambitious  desires.  And  these  treasures  were  twice 
withdrawn  in  my  domestic  life.  God  gave  and  took 
away  the  greatest  happiness  that  this  world  can 
afford. 

'  He  took  away  from  me  an  excellent  and  channing 
son  who  had  just  attained  manhood.  He  lias  not 
allowed  many  cherished  friendships  to  accompany 
me  to  the  grave. 

'  He  permitted  the  fall  of  the  political  edifice  to 
which  I  devoted  the  labour  of  my  life  and  attached 


LITERARY   WORK.  291 

the  glory  of  my  name.  After  so  many  and  such 
grievous  losses  God  still  left  me  a  large  share  of 
happiness.  My  children  have  been  the  charm  of 
my  old  age.  I  thank  them  for  their  affection  for 
me  and  for  their  union  among  themselves.  I  ear- 
nestly pray  them  to  remain  always  as  united  when 
I  am  gone  as  they  have  been  while  gathered  round 
me.  They  will  find,  in  family  union,  sources  of 
happiness  and  strength  which  will  support  them  be- 
yond their  expectations  in  the  trials  of  life.' 

Work  was  M.  Guizot's  chief  consolation,  and  at 
Val-Richer  he  was  able  to  give  himself  up  to  it  en- 
tirely. He  was  therefore  always  anxious  to  return 
thither. 

*  We  shall  start  on  Tliursday  evening,  the  twenty- 
sixth,  unless  there  should  be  imforeseen  obstacles,'  he 
wrote  on  the  sixteenth  of  May,  1853,  to  his  younger 
daughter ;  '  and  hope  to  reach  you  on  Friday  morn- 
ing, the  twenty-seventh.  I  shall  thus  be  able  to  be 
present  again  on  Thursday,  the  twenty-sixth,  at  the 
sitting  of  the  Academy.  I  wish  to  show  my  good- 
will. This  will  'be  my  only  intrigue  in  favour  of 
Menander*  Guillaume  is  in  almost  as  great  a  hurry 
as  I  am  to  be  at  Val-Richer,  for  the  benefit  of  vour 
society,  and  for  that  of  his  work,  which  he  wants  to 
get  on  with.     I,  too,  have  a  great  deal  to  do. 


*  M.  Guizot's  son,  wlio  had  scarcely  attained  the  age  of  twenty, 
competed  for  tlie  prize  oflfered  by  the  Academy  for  the  best  essay 
on  the  life  and  works  of  Menander.  The  prize  was  divided.  M. 
Guillaume  Guizot  was  crowned  ex  ceqiio  with  M.  Benoit,  Professor 
at  Nancy. 


292  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN    PRIVATE   LIFE. 

'  A  certain  Count  SjDrengponter,  who  was  Russian 
Ambassador  at  Napoleon's  court  in  early  days,  passed 
through  Gotha  on  his  way  back  to  St.  Petersburg. 
A  Saxon  friend  of  his  asked  him  what  Napoleon 
really  was,  "  He  is  a  man  whose  projects  would  take 
a  hundred  years  to  carry  into  effect ;  and  as  he  has 
only  twenty -five  to  live,  he  cuts  each  year  into  four." 
I  am  not  Napoleon,  but  I  should  like  to  cut  my 
years  into  four. 

'  On  Saturday,  I  dined  at  Rothschild's.  There 
were  not  many  retired  politicians,  —  only  Salvandy 
and  Montebello.  Some  very  fine  people,  however, 
— the  Prince  and  Princess  de  Beauvau,  Madame 
Potocka,  the  Duke  and  Duchess  Galliera,  Baron  and 
Baroness  Seebach. 

'  The  talk  was  all  of  turning  hats  and  tables.  I 
said  that  I  had  seen  nothing  of  it,  and  that  in  my  ex- 
perience only  people  turned.  The  Princess  declared 
that  after  dinner  she  would  show  me  something,  and 
she  asked  for  my  hat. 

'  "  It  will  never  turn,"  I  said. 

'  "  And,  why  1 " 

'  "  Because  it  has  spent  its  life  on  my  head !  " 

'  They  took  my  hat.  Madame  de  Beauvau  put 
her  hands  on  it,  first  with  her  sister,  and  next  with 
one  of  the  young  Rothschilds,  and  then  with  myself, 
for  more  than  half-an-hour.  It  remained  perfectly 
motionless.  I  went  away  and  left  them  engaged 
with  a  table.' 

Madame  Cornells  de  Witt,  M.  Guizot's  younger 
daughter,  was  weak  and  out  of  health  after  the  birth 


PLEASURE  IN  HIS  GRANDCHILDREN.      293 

of  her  second  child,  and  settled  herself  at  Hy^res 
for  the  winter. 

M.  Giiizot  took  great  interest  in  his  grandchildren, 
even  when  they  were  at  a  distance,  and  almost  from 
the  time  of  their  birth.  He  wrote,  on  the  tM^enty- 
fifth  of  November,  1853:  — 

'  I  suppose,  as  you  have  said  nothing  about  them, 
that  Cornelis  II.  does  not  continue  to  fly  into  such 
passions.  You  are  right  in  checking  them  early,  but 
do  not  worry  yourself,  or  restrain  his  independence 
too  much  :  every  tree  should  follow  its  bent.  I  am 
not,  however,  afraid  of  your  being  too  strict.  And 
tell  me  some  more  about  Marie.  I  often  think  of  her. 
Your  absence  from  home  will  do  her  no  hann :  I  am 
sure  that  the  sunshine  will  be  almost  as  good  for  her 
as  for  her  mother.  She  could  have  done  without  it, 
but  she  will  flourish  all  the  more  in  it.  Little  Mar- 
garet is  developing  rapidly  and  healthily  in  every 
respect,  she  seems  to  understand  very  quickly  and 
without  any  trouble.  I  cannot  say  how  it  delights 
me  to  see  her  mother's  happiness  in  holding  a  strong, 
living  child  in  her  arms.  There  is  always  the  lurk- 
ing memory  of  her  past  grief  which  doubles  her  joy 
in  the  present. 

'  Nothing  is  talked  of  but  the  Fusion ;  but  it  is 
talked  of  very  cautiously,  for  the  newspapers  do  not 
venture  to  pronounce  its  name.  All  that  has  appeared 
on  the  subject  is  rather  a  bitter  little  article  in  the 
Correspondance  Havas.  But  it  is  talked  of  a  great 
deal  and  everywhere ;  and  indifferent  people,  who 
are  those  that  have  chiefly  to  be  taken  into  account, 


294  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IK   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

approve,  and  say,  "  It  maybe  of  use  some  day,  it  is 
something  to  look  forward  to." 

'  There  is  no  news  from  the  East.  Neg-otiations 
are  renewed,  and  an  armed  intervention  is  spoken  of. 
There  continues  to  be  a  great  contradiction  between 
the  formal  language  of  the  Emperor  to  foreign  diplo- 
matists and  the  utterances  of  the  Imperial  news- 
papers. The  one  very  pacific  and  not  at  all  Tm-kisli, 
the  other  very  Tm-kish  and  almost  warlike.' 

Again,  on  the  ninth  of  January,  1854:  — 

'  Everybody  expected  war,  last  night,  except  the 
Austrian  Ambassador,  who  still  exhibits  great  con- 
fidence and  is  sure  that  all  will  be  settled  peacefully, 
I  doubt.  Questions  of  influence  and  dignity  are, 
when  once  they  are  stin-ed,  more  difficult  to  arrange 
than  any  others. 

'  The  public  here  is  beginning  to  be  seriously  un- 
easy, and  to  ask  what  France  has  to  do  with  this 
struggle  between  Russia  and  England  for  influence  in 
the  East,  and  why  she  should  help  to  destroy  one  of  the 
secondary  fleets  in  order  to  establish  the  supremacy 
of  the  English  fleet  in  the  Black  Sea,  as  well  as  every- 
where else  ?  The  public  may  have  as  many  doiibts, 
and  ask  as  many  questions,  as  it  pleases,  the  Govern- 
ment will  keep  up  the  alliance  with  England,  there 
will  be  only  a  little  coldness  and  emban-assment  be- 
tween the  two  countries. 

'  The  Admirals  declare  that  we  must  not  think  of 
entering  the  Black  Sea  at  present :  it  is  covered  with 
fragments  of  ships,  it  is  the  season  for  fogs  and  ship- 
wrecks, the  wind  is  from  the  north-east,  there,  as 
elsewhere.     We  must  wait. 


PLEASURE    IN    HIS    GRANDCHILDREN.  295 

'  To-moiTOw,  I  am  going  to  read  to  the  Academy 
a  paper  on  Cromwell  which  they  asked  me  for.  I 
shall  finish  this  week  my  eighth  and  last  volmne, 
which  would  have  been  already  finished  had  I  not 
been  unwell.  The  historical  documents  are  ready 
and  almost  all  printed.  The  work  will  appear 
simultaneously  in  Paris  and  in  London,  between 
the  first  and  the  fifteenth  of  February.  I  shall  leave 
it  with  regret.  I  have  come  to  the  illness  and  death 
of  Cromwell,  and  I  linger  over  it  with  an  almost 
afi"ectionate  interest.  There  is  something  that  attracts 
and  affects  me  powerfully  in  the  sight  of  a  great  man, 
not  naturally  at  all  inclined  to  despondency,  but 
who  in  his  last  moments  passed  away  with  the  im- 
pression that  he  had  not  done  one  of  the  things  Avhich 
he  had  really  wished  to  accomplish,  although,  ex- 
ternally and  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  he  had  been 
always  successful.' 

'  Jan.  13. 
'  Politics  do  not  look  well.  We  hear  from  Berlin : 
"The  last  news  from  St.  Petersbm-g  give  very  little 
hope  for  the  maintenance  of  peace.  The  Emperor 
Nicholas  persists  in  refusing  any  intervention.  The 
Vienna  Conference  has  quite  broken  up,  and,  be- 
sides, the  Emperor  Nicholas  will  not  be  guilty  of  the 
inconsistency  of  disavowing  the  victory  gained  by 
his  squadi'on  at  Sinope.  He  will  be  ready  to  begin 
the  campaign  in  March.  One  may  be  certain  that 
he  will  not  take  the  initiative  against  the  two  naval 
powers,  and  that  he  will  go  forward  without  paying 


296  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT    IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

any  attention  to  tliem  so  long  as  he  does  not  believe 
that  the  Cabinets  of  Vienna  and  Berlin  are  aarainst 
him."  These  are  the  very  words.  M.  de  Reiset, 
the  bearer  of  the  Anglo-French  note  relating  to  the 
Black  Sea,  left  Paris  on  the  twenty-ninth  of  Decem- 
ber, and  did  not  reach  Berlin  until  the  sixth  of 
January,  because  the  lines  were  blocked,  and  the 
engine  could  not  make  any  progi'ess  in  the  snow. 
He  cannot  have  reached  St.  Petersburg  before  yes- 
terday at  the  earliest.  We  shall  not  receive  the 
Emperor's  answer  until  the  twenty-fifth  or  thirtieth. 
The  question  will  then  make  a  great  stride,  probably 
in  the  direction  of  war.  Diplomacy  has  now  given 
up  talking  about  the  matter,  and  is  quite  right,  for 
no  honoiu'  has  been  gained  by  talking. 

'  Yesterday,  I  had  a  great  sorrow.  Poor  Armand 
Bertin  died  at  seven  in  the  morning,  of  angina,  from 
which  he  had  been  suffering  since  Monday  —  the 
anniversary  of  his  Avife's  death.  It  is,  I  repeat,  a 
great  soitow  and  a  great  loss  for  me.  He  was  an 
excellent  man,  loyal,  clever,  sensible,  intelligent, 
and  a  most  faithful  friend.  And  poor  Hebert !  his 
wife  died  on  the  day  before  yesterday  of  typhoid 
and  brain-fever.  He  wrote  to  me  two  hours  after- 
wards :  "  She  has  gone  to  heaven  to  join  her  daugh- 
ter, whose  image  has  been  present  to  her  mind  every 
instant  of  the  last  seven  years."  Death  continues  in 
vain  to  deal  his  blows  around  us,  in  spite  of  all  that 
Bossuet  says,  we  always  forget  how  near  he  is. 
May  God  preserve  you  —  all  four  of  you  —  my 
dear  children.' 


PLEASURE  IN  HIS  GKANDCHILDREN.      297 

There  was  a  strong'  muster  of  the  family  at  Hyeres ; 
Mademoiselle  de  Witt  had  just  married  M.  Gaillard, 
who,  at  that  time,  held  the  post  of  paijeur  du  tresor 
(public  paymaster)  at  Moulins,  and  she  and  her 
husband  set  out  immediately  afterwards  for  the 
south.  M.  Guizot  wrote  to  her  on  the  third  of 
March,  1854:  — 

'  My  deak  Betsy,  —  I  write  to  you  to-day,  for  the 
whole  cu'cle  at  Hyeres.  You  have  been  my  third 
daughter  for  the  last  fom*  years,  and  I  do  not  see 
why  this  relationship  should  cease  because  you 
have  married  with  my  full  approbation.  Yom-  let- 
ters tell  me  what  I  already  knew  —  that  you  are 
very  happy.  Pray  stay  as  you  are.  There  is  a 
certain  resting-place  in  life  to  which  one  must  cling 
whatever  happens.  The  futm-e  will  not  always  be 
as  bright  as  the  present ;  you  will  have  your  trials 
and  soiTows  like  the  rest  of  the  world.  Hold  on 
firmly,  cling  more  and  more  closely  to  your  pillar 
of  support.  I  am  delighted  that  you  have  found  it, 
and  although  I  have  known  M.  Gaillard  only  for  a 
very  short  time,  I  am  confident  that,  with  the  help 
of  his  arm,  you  will  traverse  happily  the  crooked  as 
well  as  the  straight  paths  of  life.' 

M.  Guizot's  life  was  spent  more  and  more  in  the 
bosom  of  his  family ;  his  work  kept  him  at  home, 
and  neither  the  Academy  nor  his  fi'iends  called  him 
away.  If  he  travelled,  it  was  only  for  a  short  time, 
and  the  dav  of  his  return  was  settled  beforehand. 
Those  he  left  behind  were  admitted  to  a  share  in 
all  he  saw. 


298  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN    PRIVATE   LIFE. 

In  August,  1855,  lie  went  to  England  for  the 
anniversary  of  Louis  Philippe's  death.  On  his 
return  he  wrote  from  Paris :  — 

'  I  left  London  yesterday  morning  at  a  quarter  to 
eight,  and  reached  Paris  yesterday  evening  at  five 
minutes  to  eight.  Until  we  can  be  shot,  like  a  tele- 
graphic despatch,  this  is  pretty  good  travelling  as  a 
parcel.  I  came  back  with  Broglie.  I  am  not  at  all 
tired,  and  I  am  very  glad  that  I  went ;  but  I  am 
very  glad  that  my  trip  is  over, -and  I  shall  be  still 
better  pleased  when  it  is  quite  over.  I  am  going 
this  morning  to  arrange  my  visit  to  Maintenon.  I 
see  that  the  Due  de  Noailles  will  have  company  — 
Lord  and  Lady  Holland,  Dumon,  Cousin  —  never- 
theless, I  intend  to  be  Avith  you  on  Thursday.  I 
will  tell  you  to-morrow  at  what  hour  you  must 
send  to  meet  me  at  Lisieux.  Marie  and  Marguerite 
are  quite  right  in  wondering  why  I  am  not  at  home. 
'  My  last  morning  in  England  was  spent  at  the 
Crystal  Palace.  It  is  an  historical  chaos  in  plaster 
under  a  glass  cage.  It  looks  grand  from  outside  — 
perhaps  still  more  strange  than  grand  —  but  still  it 
is  grand.  Within,  a  constant  transition  from  the 
gigantic  to  the  paltry,  from  the  beautiful  to  the 
ridiculous.  Colossal  sphinxes,  as  fresh  as  new 
earthenware,  and  packed  as  close  as  anchovies. 
Egyptian  art  evidently  needs  ruins  and  the  desert. 
Hundreds  of  busts,  as  many  of  unknown  as  of 
known  personages,  and  coupled  together  most  ab- 
surdly ;  Grisi  by  the  side  of  Lord  Chancellor  Mans- 
field ;  Peel  to  match  Hercules.     Farther  on,  dolls  to 


PLEASURE  IN  HIS  GRANDCHILDREN.      299 

represent  savages,  of  natural  size  and  colour  — 
black,  red,  yellow  —  eating,  scalping,  fighting ; 
groups  of  lions  and  tigers  in  aviaries  of  stuffed 
birds.  Noah's  ark  without  the  deluge.  But,  here 
and  there,  magnificent,  charming  things.  A  com- 
plete reproduction,  in  the  same  dimensions,  of  the 
Alhambra  —  the  Court  of  Lions  and  another  court. 
It  is  lovely.  Two  Pompeian  houses,  very  correct 
and  very  curious  as  a  study  of  Roman  habits.  And, 
above  all,  the  gardens  in  front  of  the  Palace,  im- 
mense, superb  —  a  happy  combination  of  Fi-ench 
garden,  Italian  decoration,  and  English  turf.  At 
the  bottom  of  these  gardens,  round  and  in  a  great 
unfinished  lake,  the  antediluvian  animals.  Masto- 
dons, Megalotheriums,  Ichthyosaurians,  &c.,  &c.,  put 
together,  and  reproduced  in  i)laster  in  their  natural 
size,  moi'e  huge  and  hideous  than  one  imagines. 
There  is  a  frog  between  twelve  and  fifteen  long, 
and  six  or  seven  feet  high.  I  will  allow  Marie  to 
be  frightened  if  she  meets  him  at  the  bottom  of  our 
garden  (I  should  say  park).  Whatever  we  may 
say  against  the  creation  of  our  times,  it  is  more 
beautiful  than  this  was.  On  the  whole,  Sydenham 
Palace  is  a  great  curiosity,  well  worth  seeing,  and 
would  foiTnerly  have  been  justly  counted  among 
the  wonders  of  the  world.  Moreover,  a  wonder 
that  was  constructed  in  two  years.' 

In  future,  during  several  months  of  the  year,  M. 
Guizot  wrote  principally  to  his  elder  daughter,  for 
she  was  separated  from  him  when  he  was  in  Paris  in 
the  winter.     M.  Conrad  de  Witt  was  fond  of  agricult- 


300  MONSIEUR    GUIZOT   IN    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

ure,  and  he  managed  the  farm  at  Val-Richer.  For 
fifteen  years  he  and  his  family  passed  winter  as  well 
as  summer  in  this  favourite  abode  —  the  real  centre 
of  the  family,  who  were  all  reunited  in  the  spring. 
The  separation  was,  however,  hard  to  bear. 

'  My  child,'  M.  Guizot  wrote,  on  the  seventh  of 
April,  1856,  '  Pauline  goes  on  improving.  There  is, 
I  assure  you,  no  cause  for  uneasiness :  do  not  add 
anxiety  to  the  grief  of  absence. 

'  Adolphe  Monod's  *  trial  is  over.  Hedied  yester- 
day —  I  do  not  know  at  what  o'clock  —  with  much 
suffering  from  weakness,  which  had  gone  on  increas- 
ing for  the  last  few  days.  "  He  rests  from  his  labom's, 
and  his  works  follow  him."  To  no  one  can  these 
beautiful  words  be  more  appropriate.  For  a  long 
time  I  have  thought  of  him  as  of  one  that  was  dead, 
with  the  deepest  respect,  and  without  any  bitterness 
in  my  grief.  According  to  oui*  hviman  judgment, 
sometimes  too  confident,  and  at  others  too  anxious, 
when  we  think  of  the  future,  he  seemed  still  to  be 
very  much  wanted  on  earth.  God  has  judged  other- 
wise. No  doubt  he  had  done  so  much  in  his  mission 
that  the  effects  of  his  work  may  carry  it  on.  And 
for  himself,  he  was  ready  to  die,  for  he  had  di'awn 
from  life  all  that  was  needed  for  eternity.  You  will 
grieve,  my  children,  but  with  faith.  As  for  me,  few 
men  have  inspired  me  with  so  much  esteem  and 
sympathy.' 


*  M.  Adolphe  Monod,  whom  Lacordaire  called  the  first  of 
Christian  orators,  had  been  confined  to  his  bed  for  seven  months, 
suffering  frightful  and  mortal  tortures. 


PLEASURE  IN  HIS  GRANDCHILDREN.      301 

Again  in  December :  — 

'  My  dear  child,  I  shall  certainly  be  very  glad  to 
see  my  expected  \'isitors  to-morrow  ;  but  my  pleasure 
is  much  balanced  by  the  idea  of  your  sorrow  at  their 
departure.  I  am  not  afraid  of  solitude  for  you  — 
you  can  bear  it ;  your  life  and  your  mind  are  full ; 
but  when  the  mind  is  full  it  overflows,  and  needs 
another  mind  into  which  it  can  pour  its  thoughts. 
When  people  are  together  they  can  be  silent :  at  a 
distance  they  want  to  talk.  However,  I  shall  write 
often.  You  will  come  to  us  for  a  short  time,  and  I 
shall  spend  a  little  while  with  you.  And  the  spring 
will  return. 

'  I  am  anxious  not  to  be  forgotten  by  Marguerite 
and  Jeanne  before  I  see  them  again.  My  little  Jeanne 
seems  to  me  almost  the  third  edition  of  one  coun- 
tenance and  one  mind.     Pray  take  care  of  her.' 

The  house  was  full  of  children.  In  April,  1856, 
M.  Guizot  wrote  to  his  second  daughter,  while  she 
was  travelling  in  Brittany :  — 

M&  Jove  principium:  Jupiter  here  stands  for  the 
children.  I  have  just  left  them.  They  went  to  sleep 
last  night  at  half-past  eight  and  did  not  awake  till 
seven  o'clock  this  morning.  I  told  Baby  he  had 
grown  fatter.  "  It  is  because  I  have  eaten  two  basins 
of  soup  this  morning."  At  dessert  we  have  a  great 
deal  of  trouble  to  make  Robert  sit  on  his  Aunt 
Adelaide's  lap ;  he  goes  on  repeating  "grandpapa." 
But  he  resigns  himself  without  murmuring.  I  never 
saw  a  better-tempered  child.  Marie  was  enchanted 
with  your  long  letter  and  the  flowers ;  biit  I  cannot 


302  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

hide  from  you  that  Cornehs  was  not  so  satisfied. 
When  I  told  him,  "  Marie  has  a  letter  from  mamma," 
his  only  answer  was,  "  I  haven't."  Henriette's  little 
girls  are  well  —  Jeanne  merrier  than  ever.  They 
are  just  starting  for  a  di'ive  in  a  donkey-carriage,  I 
think.' 

'■  January  first,  1857'  (to  his  elder  daughter).  'I 
cannot  spend  New  Year's  Day  entirely  without  you, 
so  I  write,  though  it  is  a  poor  compensation.  Every 
one  in  the  house  is  well.  The  childi-en  have  not  yet 
come  to  look  for  their  presents.  Cornelis  is  very  un- 
comfortable because  he  has  been  told  that  he  is  to 
have  a  box  full  of  wisdom ;  he  wants  something 
different.  Yesterdaj^  evening  he  tumbled  down  in  the 
drawing-room,  quarrelling  with  Marie ;  he  hit  his  head 
asrainst  the  nails  in  the  arm-chair,  and  made  two 
little  wounds,  that  bled.  It  was  nothing  at  all ;  but 
Marie  was  in  despair  when  she  saw  the  blood.  They 
have  both  forgotten  it  this  morning.  Robert  had  a 
bad  cold  last  night ;  but  he  slept  well,  and  is  better 
this  morning.  So  now  you  know  everything  just  as 
if  you  were  here.  I  should  like  to  know  everything, 
eveiy  minute,  about  Marguerite  and  Jeanne,  now  that 
I  am  not  with  you.' 

All  M.  Guizot's  children  came  round  him  a  few 
days  later,  for  a  heavy  sorrow  had  fallen  upon  him. 

Princess  Lieven,  who  had  long  been  suffering  from 
illness  and  weakness,  expired  in  the  night  of  the 
twenty-sixth  and  twenty-seventh  of  January. 

M.  Guizot  met  her  for  the  first  time  twenty 
years  earlier  at  the  Duchesse  de  Broglie's.     At  that 


PLEASURE    IN    HIS    GRANDCHILDREN.  303 

time  she  had  just  left  Russia,  her  heart  sore  for  the 
loss  of  two  charming-  sons,  who  had  fallen  victims 
to  the  measles,  partly  owing  to  the  severe  climate  of 
the  country.  M.  Guizot  had  also  just  lost  his  son, 
and  the  similarity  of  their  grief  was  the  first  link  in 
the  chain  of  their  long  friendship.  He  wrote  to  his 
elder  daughter :  — 

'  She   died    last    night  —  at   midnight.     An  hour 
earlier  she  sent  me  away,  as  well  as  her  son  and 
every  one  else  —  she  said  she  wanted  to  go  to  sleep. 
I  left  word  that  I  was  to  be  fetched.     In  an  hour 
they  came  for  me.     She  expired  without  pain,  per- 
fectly calm,  and  in  the  full  possession  of  her  mental 
faculties.     Her  mind  was  as  large  as  her  intellect  was 
attractive,  her  good  qualities  were  all  her  own,  her 
faults  came  from  her   education  and  surroundings. 
She  said  yesterday  to  Olliffe :  —  "It  would  be  a  pity 
if  I  were  not  to  die  now,  I  feel  well  prepared  for  it." 
The  affection  and  soitow  of  her  son  Paul  gratified 
her  extremely.     I  am  sorry  that  her  son  Alexander 
could  not  arrive  in  time,  she  would  have  been  pleased 
to  see  him.     He  was  alwa^-s  very  kind  and  aflFection- 
ate  to  her.     He  will  probably  amve  on  the  day 
after  to-moiTow.     Count    Constantine    BenkendoriF 
and  his  wife  came  on  the  day  before  yesterday.     She 
thanked  them  with  gentleness,  but  without    mani- 
festing any  strong  feeling. 

'  Half-past  three.  I  have  just  been  making  a  pain- 
ful effort.  I  have  been  to  the  Committee  of  the 
Academy  to  hear  the  speeches  read.  I  read  my  own. 
I  am  to  preside  at  the  sitting  of  the  fifth  of  Febru- 


304  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN    PRIVATE   LIFE. 

ary.  I  will  neglect  no  public  duty,  but  with  this 
exception  I  shall  shut  myseK  up.  Good-bye,  my 
child,  here  is  a  kiss  for  you.  I  have  a  great  deal 
more  to  say;  but  to-day  I  have  neither  time  nor 
spirits.' 

At  this  time  M.  Guizot  began  to  write  his  Memoirs 
—  a  work  of  the  highest  importance  for  himself,  and 
equally  essential  for  the  true  history  of  his  time. 
As  the  Due  de  Broglie  said,  '  History  will  have  to 
take  note  of  it ; '  and  this  was  M.  Guizot's  motive  and 
wish,  and  the  great  end  he  had  in  view.  He  prepared 
the  materials  at  Val- Richer,  surrounded  by  books  and 
papers,  without  losing  his  interest  in  country  occu- 
pations and  the  farming  experiments  of  his  children. 

'  I  shall  not  return  until  Friday  instead  of  Thurs- 
day,' he  wrote  on  the  twenty- tliird  of  February,  1857, 
to  his  second  daughter,  '  I  want  to  give  a  full  week 
to  Henriette  and  to  myself  She  is  in  a  great  hurry  to 
see  you  all  again.  They  will  come  to  Paris  for  a 
week  on  the  fourteenth  or  sixteenth  of  March.  Your 
aunt  Adelaide  seems  in  just  as  gi-eat  a  hurry.  The 
weather,  since  yesterday,  has  been  finer  than  ever,  so 
soft  and  clear,  just  like  fine  May  weather.  We  go 
out  after  breakfast.  Yesterday  we  went  over  the 
Upper  field,  the  colza  is  looking  very  well.  The 
drainage  of  the  whole  of  the  large  meadow  will  soon 
be  finished.  We  shall  begin  making  pipes  again, 
this  week  or  next  Monday  at  the  latest' 

Three  months  later.  May  twenty-seventh,  he 
writes :  — 


PLEASURE    IN   HIS    GRANDCHILDREN.  305 

'  The  sun  really  has  come  back  to  us ;  it  never 
shone  brighter  than  it  did  this  morning.  All  the 
outdoor  work  is  going  on  well  this  evening.  We 
sowed  the  camelina  yesterday ;  the  beetroot  and  the 
carrots  are  coming  up  and  the  colza  is  ripening.  The 
corn  is  growing  and  the  hay  is  getting  tliick.  They 
cut  the  grass  in  the  park  yesterday  for  the  cows,  who 
enjoyed  it  immensely.  The  cow-house  was  jubilant. 
When  the  big  bull  had  eaten  his  portion  he  thumped 
his  manger  with  liis  horns,  asking  for  more.  The 
dairy  will  be  finished  to-day ;  Ecker  is  painting  the 
hen-house,  and  Guesnet  completing  the  wall.  Very 
few  of  the  last  batch  of  di'ain-pijDcs  were  broken. 
The  dahlias  are  planted  out  in  tlie  large  bed.  The 
stuffed  badger  has  an-ived,  and  is  placed  in  the  glass 
case,  where  the  bu'ds  have  made  room  for  him. 
Bocage  promised  me  yesterday  a  fine  fox  and  a 
hedge-hog.  By  the  time  you  arrive  the  new  coach- 
house will  be  ready,  —  at  least,  the  carpenter  has 
promised  it.  This  is  all  I  have  to  tell  you  as  regards 
things.  As  to  people,  we  are  all  quite  well.  You 
may  feel  quite  sure  that  when  you  all  are  happy  and 
all  round  me,  I  always  find  life  worth  living.  It  is  a 
matter  of  perpetual  surprise  to  me  —  a  sui-prise  which 
every  fresh  experience  renews  —  that  such  opposite 
feelings  can  dwell  together  in  our  hearts,  such  sad- 
ness with  such  joy,  such  aching  voids  with  such 
fulness  of  life ;  and,  above  all,  I  wonder  at  our 
unconquerable  clinging  to  the  future,  when  each 
succeeding  day  makes  our  lives  belong  more  and 
more  to  the  past.     So  God  has  made  us,  and  the 

20 


306  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

infinite  contradictions  in  our  natm-e  are  proofs  that 
our  destiny  is  not  accomplished  in  this  life.' 

So  life  passed  on,  filled  with  assiduous  work, 
which,  however,  never  absorbed  M.  Guizot  so  much 
as  to  prevent  his  occupying-  himself  with  the  busi- 
ness or  the  pleasures  of  those  he  loved.  When  he 
had  been  writing  for  a  long  time,  and  had  expressed 
his  thoughts  to  his  satisfaction,  he  left  his  books  and 
his  desk  for  the  room  of  one  of  his  daughters.  '  I 
have  come  fof  a  little  talk,'  he  used  to  say,  and, 
either  walking  slowly  in  the  garden,  examining  the 
flowers,  trees,  and  fruit ;  or  by  the  fireside,  stirring 
the  logs  on  the  hearth,  he  would  go  on  talking  for 
ai*  hour,  sometimes  of  the  book  he  was  writing, 
sometimes  of  the  people  or  events  connected  with  it, 
especially  of  past  historical  and  personal  interests, 
but  always  affectionately  sympathising  in  the  jDresent 
of  those  he  loved,  and  entering  into  the  smallest 
details  in  their  lives.  The  little  grandchildren  had 
never  learned  to  be  afraid  of  their  grandfather,  their 
perfect  respect  never  interfered  with  their  gaiety  in 
his  presence.  He  was  not,  like  his  friend  Lord  Aber- 
deen, obliged  to  go  to  his  daughters'  rooms  in  order 
to  enjoy  the  children's  merry  noise  ;  the  children 
rushed  into  his  room  early  in  the  morning,  one  after 
the  other,  and  were  allowed  to  share  his  early  break- 
fast. When  absent,  he  frequently  wrote  to  them, 
when  present  he  encouraged  them  to  talk  to  him. 

'  This  is  my  conversation  with  the  children,'  he 
wrote  one  day  in  the  year  1860;  'the  four  eldest 
were  breakfasting  with  me.    Corndis.  —  ' '  Robert  says 


PLEASURE    IN    HIS    GRANDCHILDREN.  307 

lie  loves  Jeanne  best ;  that's  not  tnie.  I  am  sure  we 
all  love  her  as  much  as  he  does."  Robert.  —  "No. 
I  am  the  one  that  loves  Jeanne  best."  Cornelis.  — 
"  No."  Ilohert.  —  "  Yes."  Jeanne.  —  "  You  must  not 
love  me  better  than  Marguerite  ;  that's  not  fair."  I 
told  Cornelis  he  was  right,  I  kissed  Jeanne,  and  cut 
the  conversation  short.  Yesterday,  too,  Cunin- 
Gridaine  came  into  the  drawing-room,  and  cried  out 
on  seeing  Jeanne,  "  Dear !  how  like  that  little  girl  is 
to  her  mother !  "  She  is  charmed  with  her  trip,  and 
she  will  be  charmed  to  return  home  to  Val-Richer.' 

As  they  grew  older  it  was  their  grandfather  whom 
the  children  chose  as  the  confidant  of  all  their  little 
secrets  and  of  the  bright  hopes  which  crowd  the  im- 
agination of  the  young  when  they  are  thoughtfully 
disposed.  He  used  to  listen  to  their  confidences  with 
far-seeing  tenderness,  and  sometimes  even  to  solicit 
them  :  his  words,  his  looks,  his  counsels  sank  deep 
in  their  young  hearts,  and  bore  fruit  long  afterwards. 

It  was  in  his  home,  in  the  bosom  of  his  family, 
that  M.  Guizot  henceforth  found  happiness  and  rest. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

1858-60. 

VISIT   TO   ENGLAND DEMOLITION   OF   HIS    HOUSE. 

In  1858  M.  Guizot  yielded  to  the  entreaties  of  his 
English  friends  who  wished  to  see  him  once  more 
among  them,  and  accordingly  spent  a  few  days  in 
Norfolk  at  Ketteringham,  the  seat  of  his  old  friend,* 
Sir  John  Boileavi,  a  descendant  of  a  family  of  Fi'ench 
Protestant  refng-ees,  who  was  distantly  connected 
with  M.  Guizot.  After  the  twenty-fourth  of  Febru- 
ary, 1848,  the  two  families  had  become  very  intimate. 

M.  Guizot's  travelling  companion  was  his  son. 
He  gave  a  few  days  to  London  on  the  way. 

'  What  were  you  doing  at  one  o'clock  this  mom- 


*  Mr.  Senior  was  of  the  party  who  met  M.  Guizot.  In  a  letter 
to  M.  de  Tocqueville  he  says,  '  Guizot  is  in  excellent  spirits,  and 
what  is  rare  in  an  ex-Premier,  dwells  more  on  the  present  and  the 
future  than  the  past.'  M.  de  Tocqueville  replied,  '  I  have  been 
much  interested  by  your  visit  to  Sir  John  Boileau.  You  saw  there 
M.  Guizot  in  one  of  his  best  lights.  The  energy  with  which  he 
stands  up  under  the  pressure  of  age  and  of  ill-fortune,  and  is  not 
only  resigned  in  his  new  situation,  but  as  vigorous,  as  animated, 
and  as  cheerful  as  ever,  shows  a  character  admirably  tempered, 
and  a  dignity  which  nothing  will  impair.'  —  Tr. 


VISIT  TO   ENGLAND.  309 

ing  ? '  he  wrote  on  the  sixteenth  of  July  to  his  elder 
daughter.  '  I  have  no  doubt  that  you  were  quietly 
asleep.  I  and  Guillaume  were  in  Bruton  Street, 
walking  home  after  a  violent  storm  wliich  broke  out 
ten  minutes  before  one,  and  was  still  grumbling. 
We  had  just  left  Lady  Granville's,  whither  we  went 
at  eleven  o'clock  after  dining  with  Panizzi.  I  could 
lead  this  life,  and  perhaps  it  would  amuse  me,  for  a 
week,  but  not  longer.  And  I  am  all  the  more  con- 
vinced of  tills  because  I  greatly  enjoy  the  society  to 
which  I  have  returned ;  ideas,  sentiments,  people, 
occupations,  interests,  all  suit  me,  but  there  is  neither 
quiet  nor  intimacy.  I  must  have  both.  I  have  never 
much  liked  physical  exertion,  but  it  used  to  be  in- 
different to  me ;  now  it  bores  and  worries  even 
more  than  it  fatigues  me  ;  I  have  no  longer  time  or 
strength  enough  to  squander  tliem  in  a  hurry* 

'  Tliere  were  a  great  many  people  the  day  before 
yesterday  at  Reeve's,  a  very  agreeable  dinner.  We 
had  a  great  deal  of  conversation  and  talked  as  peo- 
ple do  who  enjoy  each  other's  society.  Yesterday, 
at  Panizzi's,  the  British  Museum,  and  Liberal  High 
Church  party.  We  greatly  admire  and  are  charmed 
with  the  Reading-room  of  the  British  Museum.  It 
is  a  vast  building,  beautiful  and  practical.  The 
general  effect  is  very  fine,  and  the  smallest  details 
are  perfectly  adapted  to  their  objects  —  art,  science, 
and  comfort  combined.    Guillaume  was  quite  excited. 

'  I  saw  Lord  Aberdeen  the  day  before  yesterday  ; 


Sic  in  orig.  —  Tr. 


310  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

I  shall  see  him  again  this  morning.  We  conversed 
for  an  hour.  His  mind  and  lieart  are  the  same  as 
always,  but  his  body  feeble,  nervous,  and  shaken. 
He  walks  with  difficulty,  and  speaks  slowly,  and  is 
calm  and  sad.  He  said  to  me,  "  You  will  not  find 
a  better  friend  here  than  I  am ;  the  only  use  I  can 
now  be  of  to  you  is  to  be  your  friend." 

'  I  do  not  think  he  would  go  to  Scotland  now  if 
it  were  not  to  receive  me.  Sir  Henry  Holland,  to 
whom  I  mentioned  my  scruples,  says  that  it  will  be 
good  for  him,  and  that  my  visit  will  do  him  as  much 
good  as  it  will  give  him  pleasure.  While  talking  to 
him  I  felt  pain  and  pleasure  painfully  mingled,  but 
nothing  but  pleasure  in  hearing  him  spoken  of  He 
is  the  object  of  general  respect,  Queen  and  Ministers, 
friends  and  adversaries,  all  honour  him  and  seek  his 
advice.  It  distresses  me  beforehand  to  tliink  of  the 
day  when  I  shall  have  to  leave  him.' 

'  My  dear  child,  I  am  at  Edinbm'gh,'  M.  Guizot 
wrote  on  the  tliird  of  August  to  his  elder  daughter ; 
'before  me  is  the  most  picturesque  aspect  of  the 
most  picturesque  of  towns ;  a  green  valley,  through 
the  whole  length  of  which  the  railroad  runs,  sepa- 
rates me  from  the  hilly  slopes  on  which  part  of  the 
ancient  city  is  built.  To  the  right  stands  the  old 
castle  on  the  summit  of  a  rock,  at  whose  base  are 
fine  modern  buildings  in  Greek  architecture ;  to  the 
left  is  the  monument  to  Sir  Walter  Scott,  to  the 
right  and  to  the  left  are  two  long  perspective  views 
of  the  ancient  and  modern  town.  It  is  more  strik- 
ing and  original  than  you  can  fancy.     But  to-day  is 


LORD    ABERDEEN. 


VISIT   TO   ENGLAND.  311 

the  third  of  Augrist ;  you  will  receive  this  letter  on 
the  sixth.  I  wish  I  were  the  letter.  I  had  rather 
be  at  Val-Richer  than  at  Edinburgh.  I  had  rather 
be  there  every  day  in  the  year,  as  well  as  on  the 
sixth  of  August.  In  this  new^  and  beautiful  spot,  in 
the  presence  of  all  these  historical  recollections  there 
is  one  recollection  which  effaces  them  all,  and  fills 
my  mind  —  the  remembrance  of  the  sixth  of  August, 
1829  —  your  birth,  your  face  which  has  not  altered, 
my  happiness  and  your  mother's  hajjpiness  —  one 
and  the  same  happiness  for  both  of  us  —  all  in  the 
little  room  in  the  little  house  that  I  have  enlarged 
and  arranged,  and  that  is  now  being  taken  away 
from  me,  and  of  which  next  year,  perhajis,  there 
will  be  left  no  trace.  Everything  passes  away  ex- 
cept the  soul  and  all  that  gave  it  life  in  this  world 
while  waiting  for  the  life  immortal.  May  God  bless 
you,  my  child,  you,  and  your  husband  and  children, 
in  the  present  and  the  future !  We  are  very  far 
from  each  other,  the  sea  separates  us,  and  my  affec- 
tion will  not  be  satisfied  with  an  idea,  I  hold  to  the 
real  presence,  which,  I  hope,  will  be  restored  to  me 
in  three  weeks.  May  nothing  before  that  time  prove 
to  us  the  fragilit}^  of  our  dearest  hopes. 

'  Yesterday  we  had  a  very  agreeable  journey 
from  York  with  Lord  Aberdeen,  his  son,  and  his 
physician,  in  a  large  invalid  carriage,  with  twelve 
seats  in  it,  which  he  engaged  in  London.  The  jour- 
ney was  gratis  as  well  as  agreeable.  When  we 
airived  here,  at  the  Royal  Hotel,  Princes  Street,  we 
dressed.     We  then  went  to  dine  with  Lord  Aber- 


312  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT  IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

deen  at  Douglas'  Hotel,  a  very  fine  hotel  in  tlie 
middle  of  the  town,  to  which  he  always  goes.  The 
most  indifferent  spectator  would  be  touched  by 
Lord  Aberdeen's  kindness  to  me.  He  thinks  of 
everything,  but  if  he  is  afraid  that  he  has  forgotten 
something,  he  twitches  the  left  side  of  his  lip  with  a 
comical  mixture  of  friendliness  towards  me  and 
anger  against  himself.  He  started  this  morning  for 
Haddo,  where  he  tells  me  he  has  appointed  a  meet- 
ing of  the  whole  family,  and  that  I  shall  see  his 
nine  grandchildren ;  Lady  Haddo  has  six. 

'To  return  to  Edinburgh  —  a  splendid  ray  of 
sunshine  lights  it  up  at  this  moment,  the  only  thing 
which  it»  wanted.  It  is  really  as  peculiar  as  it  is 
beautiful,  and  as  beautiful  as  it  is  peculiar.  The 
side  of  the  hill  in  front  of  my  room  is  covered  with 
enormous  old  houses,  churches,  and  other  buildings, 
and  the  road  up  to  them  leads  through  meadows 
and  trees.  As  soon  as  I  have  finished  my  letters 
we  shall  go  out,  and  go  out  alone.  The  two  learned 
cicerones,  for  whom  Lord  Haddington  gave  me  let- 
ters, are  out  of  town,  as  almost  every  one  is  at 
present.  To  tell  the  tnith,  I  am  all  the  better 
pleased.     In  travelling  I  love  liberty.' 

M.  Guizot  spent  a  fortnight  at  Haddo,  surrounded 
by  Lord  Aberdeen's  children  and  grandchildren. 

"  We  have  just  come  in,'  he  wrote  on  the  eighth  of 
August,  '  from  a  long  walk  in  the  park ;  sometimes 
we  sat  down,  and  then  we  walked  on  again,  con- 
versing the  whole  time.  Lord  Aberdeen  had  not 
done  so  much  for   a  long  time,   and  his  pleasure 


"VISIT   TO    ENGLAND.  313 

more  than  doubles  mine.  He  has  created  a  fine 
park  in  an  ugly  country.  It  is  immensely  large ; 
eleven  miles  from  one  end  to  the  other,  with  here 
and  there  large  old  trees  ;  all  the  rest  is  covered  by 
a  young  forest,  which  he  planted  himself,  inter- 
sected by  innumerable  paths,  and  divided  fii'st  by 
a  lake,  and  then  by  a  river.  Between  the  house 
and  the  park  is  a  French  garden.  He  walks  slowly, 
stopping  every  now  and  then  to  point  out  the  prin- 
cipal beauties,  with  the  melancholy  kindness  of  a 
failiiio-  but  affectionate  old  man. 

'  To-day,  at  noon,  I  went  to  the  parish  chm-ch ;  it 
is  two  miles  off.  All  the  family,  except  its  head  and 
the  little  children,  drove  thither  in  two  carriages,  the 
servants  in  an  omnibus.  The  service  was  altogether 
Presbyterian ;  the  church  was  very  small  and  very 
full.  The  population  seemed  well-to-do,  both  morally 
and  materially.  There  were  as  many  men  as  women, 
all  with  their  books  in  their  hands,  and  singing  fairly 
well.  A  music-master  was  sent  for  from  Aberdeen 
to  give  them  lessons.  The  whole  congregation  con- 
sisted of  Lord  Aberdeen's  farmers  and  their  servants; 
he  has  more  than  900  farmers.  I  repeated  what  the 
Duke  of  Argyll  told  me  —  that  he  (the  Duke)  was 
the  last  Scottish  laird  who  could  call  together  3000  or 
4000  men.  Lord  Aberdeen  turned  to  his  son  Arthur 
and  said,  "  I  think  I,  too,  could  gather  some  thou- 
sands." It  would  be  impossible  to  fill  such  a  great 
position  with  more  modesty  and  liberality. 

'  The  more  I  see  of  Lord  Aberdeen  the  more 
friendship  I  feel  for  him.     His  slow,  cold,  sometimes 


314  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

shy,  and  occasionally  sarcastic  manner,  covers  the 
rarest  quahties  of  head  and  heart.  His  mind  is  as 
liberal  and  original  as  it  is  sensible,  and,  without  the 
slightest  appearance  of  pretension,  he  can  give  a 
thoughtful  opinion  on  every  subject.  We  have  in- 
terminable conversations  in  our  tete-a-tete  walks  after 
luncheon  and  in  the  evening,  after  dinner.' 

It  was  the  last  meeting  of  the  two  friends  in  this 
world.  Lord  Aberdeen  was  slowly  and  quietly  failing, 
soon  he  was  unable  to  leave  his  room,  and  could  see 
only  his  children.  He  expired  on  the  fourteenth  of 
December,  1860. 

'  For  England's  sake,'  M.  Guizot  wrote  on  the 
seventeenth,  '  I  trust  that  the  Due  de  Broglie  ex- 
aggerates when  he  says  that  Lord  Aberdeen  was  the 
last  Englishman ;  however,  he  certainly  was  the  last 
of  the  great  political  school  of  English  j^oliticians, 
and  he  was  the  most  equitable,  the  kindest,  the  most 
large-minded,  liberal,  and  moral  of  them  all.  And 
he  was  (which  no  one  who  only  knew  his  face  and 
manner  suspected)  tender  and  modest.  To  me  he 
was  so  to  an  extent  which  is  indescribable.  If  I  were 
to  live  for  a  thousand  years,  his  person  and  his  friend- 
ship would  be  as  vividly  present  to  me  as  they  are 
now,  and  I  shall  not  live  for  a  thousand  years.  In 
the  short  space  of  two  years,  Macaulay,  Hallam,  and 
Aberdeen,  have  passed  away:  three  men  of  rare 
merit,  and  two  of  them  my  intimate  friends.' 

M.  Guizot's  visit  to  England  inten-upted  the  prep- 
aration of  the  second  volume  of  his  Memoirs ;  the 
first  appeared  in  the  beginning  of  the  year. 


VISIT   TO    ENGLAJTD.  315 

'  The  book  interests  people  very  much,'  he  wrote 
to  his  daughtei-,  in  April,  '  and  astonishes  them  a 
little ;  Dumon  declares  that  it  exhibits  as  much 
youthfulness  as  experience.  Cousin  said  to  Du- 
chatel,  "  The  fii'st  chapter  put  me  into  a  fever  by  re- 
storing my  youth.  I  put  the  work  down.  I  took  it 
up  again,  and  again  had  fever.  It  was  only  after 
the  third  attempt  that  I  could  read  it  without  being 
in  a  fever,  and  was  able  to  go  on  to  the  end.  It  is 
excellent,  excellent  in  every  respect,"  and  then  he 
pays  magnificent  compliments.  Talking  of  Dumon, 
people  are  full  of  his  success  at  the  Tuileries,  he 
went  up  at  the  head  of  a  deputation  from  the  three 
great  railway  companies.  The  Emperor  asks  every- 
body, "  Why  does  no  one  speak  to  me  and  serve 
me  in  this  manner?"  Morny  says,  "If  I  were  the 
Emperor,  I  would  put  a  cord  I'ound  M.  Dumon's  neck, 
and  drag  him  to  the  Mbiisterc  des  Finances."  I  replied, 
"  Dumon  would  let  himself  be  hanged."  In  spite  of 
all  this  success,  Dumon  does  not  expect  to  get  what 
he  wants ;  something  will  be  done,  but  not  enough 
to  give  the  spur  that  is  required  to  the  affairs  of  the 
railway  comj)anies.' 

On  the  ninth  of  July  he  wrote  to  his  son,  wlio  was 
travelling :  '  M.  Renan's  article  on  my  Memoirs  is  in 
the  Bevue  of  the  first.  It  is  very  clever,  in  a  lofty, 
liberal,  and  independent  spirit,  and  very  good  in  a 
political  sense ;  very  favourable  to  me,  but  a  little 
conventional ;  he  makes  me  out  to  be  the  same  stiff, 
tragical,  solitar}^  person  that  will  end  by  becoming 
legendary,  and  as  false  as  any  other  legend. 


316  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

*  I  am  looking  over  the  proofs  of  Hamlet,  your 
translation  is  excellent,  and  the  notes  worthy  of  an 
adoring,  almost  an  idolatrous,  commentator.  The 
first  set  of  proofs  I  corrected  were  full  of  errors.' 

The  great  subject  of  interest  with  M.  Guizot  at 
this  time  was  the  marriage  of  his  son  to  Mademoiselle 
Gabrielle  de  Flaux.  His  future  daughter-in-law 
belonged  to  one  of  the  principal  Protestant  families 
at  Nimes;  her  uncle,  M.  Edouard  Flaux,  had  formerly 
been  a  fellow-student  and  friend  of  M.  Guizot's  at 
Geneva.  On  the  twentieth  of  March,  1860,  he  wrote 
to  his  son  at  Nimes  :  — 

'  My  dear  child,  Pauline  has  just  received  a  letter 
from  you  with  which  we  are  all  much  pleased,  you 
write  as  if  you  were  so  happy ;  she  is  going  to  send 
it  at  once  to  her  sister,  who  will  be  as  much  de- 
lighted with  it  as  we  are.  Enjoy  your  liappiness, 
and  when  it  is  yours  entirely,  take  great  care  of 
it.  Happiness,  like  every  other  plant,  must  be 
cherished.  I  am  beginning  to  be  very  impatient  to 
have  a  look  myself  at  what  charms  you  so  much, 
and  to  enjoy  my  share  of  it.  Do  not  fail  to  tell  us 
immediately  the  precise  days  *  as  soon  as  they  are 
fixed.' 

M.  Guizot  returned  to  his  native  town  for  the  first 
time  for  thirty  years,  in  order  to  be  present  at  his 
son's  marriage  on  the  twenty-sixth  of  April,  1860. 
His  daughters  and  one  of  his  sons-in-law  accompanied 
him.     They  were  all  delighted  to  see  the  places  they 


*  For  the  contract  and  the  marriage.  —  Tb. 


DEMOLITION   OF    HIS    HOUSE.  317 

had  so  often  heard  spoken  of,  and  to  find  how  vivid 
was  the  remembrance  left  by  their  grandmother, 
Madame  Guizot,  in  the  hearts  and  minds  of  all  who 
knew  her. 

On  their  return  to  Val- Richer  they  found  their 
house  somewhat  in  disorder.  The  demolitions  going 
on  in  Paris  had,  to  M.  Guizot's  annoyance,  reached 
his  little  house  in  the  Rue  la  Ville  I'Eveque. 

'It  was  fifty  years  ago,  in  1809,'  he  wrote  to  his 
daughter,  '  that  I  came  for  the  first  time  to  live  in 
this  house.  It  became  my  property  in  1828,  when 
I  married  your  mother.  The  longest,  as  well  as  the 
happiest  period  of  my  life  was  spent  in  it.  Life, 
fortunately,  does  not  leave  its  traces  only  on  the  walls 
within  which  it  has  been  spent ;  but  the  walls  were 
dear  to  me,  and  I  shall  always  regret  them.' 

M.  Guizot  transported  all  his  libraiy  to  Val-Richer, 
and  the  new  arrangements  were  hardly  completed. 
'  I  do  not  like,'  he  says,  '  to  think  of  all  your  doors 
wide  open,  and  the  passages,  staircases,  &c.,  in  con- 
fusion. I  like  the  house  to  be  always  clean  and 
snug,  and  comfortable  for  you.  You  must  pass 
through  this  chaos ;  it  is  like  the  wild  boar  going 
through  the  swamp.  You  are  much  more  like  an 
ennine  than  a  wild  boar ;  however,  when  once  we 
have  got  rid  of  the  dust,  and  the  doors  are  all  shut 
again,  Val-Richer  will  be  a  beautiful  and  capital 
residence.  I  like  to  picture  it  to  myself  as  it  Avill 
be  then.  I  rejoice  in  it  for  you  and  me,  and  all  who 
will  come  after  us. 

'  1860  looks  dark.     A  great  event  is  impending. 


318  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT    IN   PRIVATE    LIFE. 

The  King  of  Sardinia  will  yield  Savoy  and  Nice  to 
France,  provided  that  France  will  give  her  suj^port 
and  consent  to  his  annexing  central  Italy,  including 
the  Legations,  to  Piedmont.  Paris  asks  for  nothing 
better,  and  I  believe  the  treaty  is  already  signed. 
They  are  trying  to  persuade  England  to  agree  to,  or 
at  any  rate  not  to  oppose,  this  transaction.  I  am 
inclined  to  think  that  they  will  succeed,  probably  by 
yielding  some  commercial  advantages.  The  general 
public  will  call  this  a  success,  but  the  religious 
question,  which  is  the  important  one,  will  be  still 
fm-ther  complicated,  for  it  will  be  not  only  a  positive 
sanction  of  the  Pope's  spoliation,  but  a  sanction 
which  has  been  paid  for.  The  first  time  that  Lord 
Palmerston  was  sounded  on  the  subject,  he  replied, 
without  absolutely  rejecting  the  proposal,  "  It  is  very 
odd ;  the  Emperor  Napoleon  declared  in  the  be- 
ginning that  he  wished  to  maintain  the  integrity  of 
the  Papal  States,  and  desired  no  teiTitorial  aggran- 
dizement for  France ;  in  the  end  he  will  have  accom- 
plished neither  of  his  wishes." ' 


CHAPTER  XXL 

1860-66. 

HIS    *  MEMOIRS  '   AND    '  BIEDITATIONS.' 

The  lives  of  all  his  children  were  settled  according 
to  M.  Guizot's  satisfaction.  He  enjoyed  the  happi- 
ness which  was  common  to  them  all.  His  grand- 
children grew  np  and  developed  round  him  Avithout 
there  being  as  yet  any  necessity  for  thinking  of  their 
future. 

On  the  fourth  of  October,  1860,  he  wrote  to  his 
son  and  to  his  daughter-in-law,  who  were  at  that 
time  in  the  South :  — 

'  My  dear  children,  i.  miss  you  to-day  more  than 
I  usually  do.  This  morning,  at  eight  o'clock,  the 
six  children  breakfasted  in  my  study.  They  ex- 
hibited pages  of  writing  and  letters  in  English. 
Cornelis  and  Jeanne  bore  the  palm  in  writing,  ]\Iar- 
guerite  in  recitation ;  she  recited  the  whole  of  the 
dream  in  Athalie,  and  the  lines  before  and  after  with 
a  tragical  expression  whicli  did  not  succeed  in  dim- 
ming her  eyes  or  paling  her  cheeks.  Then  came  the 
mother's  and  father's  present  —  a  very  pretty  pair  of 
bronze  candlesticks  for  the  mantelpiece  in  the  library. 


320  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT    IN    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

The  writing-table,  which  is  to  stand  near  tlie  fire  in 
my  study,  is  not  yet  come.  I  shall  be  glad  of  it ; 
the  weather  is  getting  cold,  and  I  shall  soon  quit  my 
place  at  the  window.  The  four  Boileaus  were  at 
breakfast,  but  you  two  were  not  there.  Your  ghosts, 
however,  were  all  the  more  ^Ji'esent  to  me,  like  those 
of  Brutus  and  Cassius,  to  whom,  it  must  be  owned, 
you  do  not  bear  the  slightest  resemblance. 

'  You  ask  for  news ;  that  is  to  say,  for  our  com- 
ments on  the  news.  The  King  of  Naples  has  rendered 
a  great  service  to  M.  de  Cavour,  by  beating  Garibaldi, 
who  has  become  yielding  and  submissive.  He  was 
seized  with  a  violent  fit  of  hatred,  and  was  ready  to 
commit  any  madness,  but  without  any  personal 
animosity ;  both  his  hatred  and  his  madness  were 
prompted  by  others.  I  think  he  is  not  very  sorry 
that  his  defeat  obliges  him  to  be  sensible.  M.  de 
Cavour  will  have  the  trouble  of  dethroning  the  King 
of  Naples,  who  has  turned  round  at  the  last  moment, 
and  is  defending  himself.  I  am  glad  of  it,  for  the 
honour  of  the  name  of  Bourbon ;  but,  nevertheless, 
he  will  be  dethroned.  The  Piedmontese  army  will 
make  way  for  the  entrance  of  universal  suffrage  into 
Naples.  History  has  long  been  alternately  a  comedy 
and  a  tragedy  —  it  is  becoming  a  melo-drama. 

'  The  death  of  M.  de  Pimodan  has  caused  some 
excitement.  The  young  French  nobles  overpower 
Lamoriciere  with  civilities.  The  Pope  has  let  slip  on 
this  occasion  an  excellent  opportunity  for  embarrass- 
ing and  discrediting  his  enemies.  The  Catholics  of 
discrimination  wanted  him   to    shut   himself  up  in 


HIS  'memoirs'  and  'meditations.'         321 

Ancona,  and  force  fhe  enemy  either  to  starve  him  out 
or  take  him  by  assault.  They  now  want  him  to  leave 
Rome,  to  protest  against  everything,  and  to  wander 
over  Em-ope,  a  clerical  Belisarius.  I  do  not  think 
that  he  will  do  this. 

'What  is  going  on  in  Austria  certainly  betokens  a 
crisis  in  the  Monarchy.  Will  the  crisis  lead  to  re- 
generation or  destmction  I  I  am  inclined  to  hope 
the  former,  not  only  because  Austria  is  a  necessary 
piece  in  European  machinery,  but  on  account  of  the 
nature  itself  of  the  crisis.  The  movement  is  liberal 
yet  not  revolutionary  ;  the  Austrian  barons  are  ask- 
ing their  Emperor  for  a  charter  which  will  respect 
and  develope  their  history.  The  problem  is  whether 
the  Emperor  Francis  Joseph  will  surrender  his 
despotic  power,  to  which  the  mob  submits  willingly, 
in  order  to  become  liberal,  with  the  support  of  the 
nobles  and  the  middle  classes.  This  is  a  great 
problem  in  itself,  and  a  great  novelty  among  Con- 
tinental monarchies. 

'  M.  de  Cavoui-  and  Italy  will  keep  quiet  during 
the  winter. 

'  I  have  had  a  long  letter  from  Albert  de  Broglie : 
his  wife  is  recovering  a  little,  but  slowly ;  and  a  very 
clever  letter  from  M.  Doudan,  who  says :  "  I  cannot 
think  how  reasonable  people  do  not  know  that  a 
Pope  without  territory  is  one  of  the  most  dangerous 
beings  in  creation  :  a  kite  without  a  very  heavy  tail  is 
likely  to  give  frightful  blows  on  the  head."  Here 
are  your  two  letters.  Good  bye,  my  children,  hearty 
kisses  for  you  both.' 

21 


322  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

Henceforth  M.  Guizot  went  on  writing  without 
interruption,  passing  two-thirds  of  the  year  at  Val- 
Richer,  and  continuing  the  two  great  works  which 
he  had  begun  —  his  Memoirs  to  Illustrate  the  History 
of  My  Time,  and  his  Meditations  on  the  Christian 
Beligion.  His  heai-t  was  set  on  both  these  works. 
In  his  conversations  with  his  childi-en,  as  well  as  in 
his  letters  to  his  friends,  he  liked  to  develope  liis 
ideas  beforehand,  and  he  made  them  still  clearer  and 
more  animated  by  anecdotes  and  reflections,  which 
he  had  not  put  into  his  manuscripts.  His  conversa- 
tion contributed  to  the  moral  and  intellectual  de- 
velopment of  his  listeners,  and  the  following  are 
some  passages  from  his  letters  on  the  subject  of  his 
labom-s. 

On  the  fifth  of  June,  1860,  he  wrote  to  M.  Vitet, 
one  of  the  most  faithful  and  intimate  of  his  younger 
friends,  who  had  long  been  devoted  to  him :  — 

'  I  hope,  my  dear  friend,  that  you  will  be  happy 
in  your  solitude,  and  also  that  you  will  not  long  be 
entirely  alone.  No  one  —  not  even  you  —  can  know 
better  than  I  do,  that  nothing  can  replace  what  you 
have  lost.*  But  time  will  teach  you  —  as  it  has 
taught  me  —  not  to  despise  joys  of  a  secondary 
kind  —  to  enjoy  them,  although  you  do  not  over- 
estimate their  value.  There  are  depths  in  the  ocean 
which  the  sun's  rays  that  illumine  and  warm  its  sur- 


*  On  the  twenty-first  of  February,  1858,  M.  Vitet  lost  his  wife 
(Mademoiselle  Perier)  who  was  as  beautiful  as  she  was  distinguished 
in  other  respects. 


HIS  'memoirs'  and  'meditations.'         323 

face,  can  never  reach  —  so  it  is  with  our  minds  after 
certain  blows  —  nevertheless,  I  can  enjoy  the  sun. 

'  I  am  delighted  that  you  were  pleased  with  my 
third  volume.  The  first  part,  on  public  education, 
is  important  in  itself,  and  also  to  my  reputation,  and 
contains  a  special  interest  for  the  public.  I  regret, 
as  much  as  you  do,  that  the  second  part  is  not  pub- 
lished with  it.  I  intended  to  have  given  in  this  vol- 
ume a  complete  history  of  the  Cabinet  of  the  eleventh 
of  October,  of  its  foreign  as  well  as  of  its  home 
policy.  A  foolish  reason,  which  was  entirely  a  ma- 
terial reason,  prevented  me :  it  is  that  the  volume 
would  have  been  too  thick.  I  am  anxious  to  explain 
and  to  define  in  all  its  different  phases,  om*  foreign 
policy,  which  at  that  time  was  strikingly  original, 
and  has  now  quite  gone  out  of  fashion.  When  I 
describe  it  in  the  years  from  1832  to  1836,  I  shall 
have  to  add  a  great  many  diplomatic  despatches  to 
my  text  I  have  no  other  reason  to  give  for  having 
left  this  part  out.  I  will  tell  why  I  am  not  very 
sorry  for  having  done  so.  My  administration  of  the 
Foreign  Office,  from  1840  to  1848,  is  for  me  a  period 
of  equal  importance  with  that  when  I  was  at  the 
head  of  Public  Education  —  from  1832  to  1836. 
My  fourth  volume  will  contain  the  germs  of  the  two 
questions,  which  later  on  filled  the  stage  —  the  East- 
ern and  the  Spanish  questions.  It  will,  therefore, 
be  the  introduction  to  the  fifth  and  sixth  volumes, 
which  will  contain  the  liistory  of  my  administration 
of  foreign  affairs.  I  am  not  sorry  that  this  introduc- 
tion should  appear  by  itself,  and  rather  as  the  begin- 


324  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PKIVATE    LIFE. 

ning  of  tlie  second  part  of  my  Memoirs  than  as  the 
end  of  the  fii'st  part. 

'  Next  whiter,  when  I  pubhsh  the  fourth  volume, 
I  shall  ask  you  to  notice  the  third  and  fourth  vol- 
umes at  the  same  time,  in  the  Revue,  partly  to  ex- 
plain to  the  public  what  I  have  just  told  you,  —  the 
reasons  for  the  form  in  which  the  work  appears  — 
but  especially  on  account  of  certain  facts  —  the  Co- 
alition, for  instance  —  on  which  I  wish  to  have  the 
benefit'  of  yom-  comments. 

'  You  think  that  while  I  have  avoided  certain  diffi- 
culties, I  have  boldly  attacked  and  conquered  cer- 
tain others  which  were  very  serious.  Some  of  my" 
friends  were,  and  probably  still  are,  very  uneasy 
lest  I  should  split  on  these  rocks.  I  have  never 
shared  their  uneasiness,  nor  do  I  now.  A  few  weeks 
ago.  Cousin  told  me  in  one  of  his  fits  of  aff"ection, 
"  You  have  one  immense  advantage,  —  you  are 
never  at  a  loss."  He  spoke  truly,  and  I  was  grate- 
ful for  the  compliment.  Wlien  I  determined  to 
write  and  to  publish  my  Memoirs,  I  made  up  my 
mind  to  be  perfectly  frank ;  I  was  convinced  that  I 
should  always  be  faithful  and  affectionate  to  my 
friends,  and  just  and  moderate  to  my  adversaries. 
If  the  book  were  not  frank,  it  would  have  no  value. 
If  I  had  myself  felt,  or  allowed  others  to  inspire  me 
with,  the  least  embarrassment,  I  should  not  have 
written  at  all.' 

On  the  twenty-fom-th  of  July,  1868,  he  wrote  on 
the  Meditations  to  M.  Vitet :  — 

'  I   shall  be  delighted  if,  as  Madame  Lenormant 


HIS  'memoirs'  and  'meditations.'         325 

tells  me,  you  notice  my  2Icdltations  in  the  Journal 
des  Savants,  and  I  am  especially  glad  that  you  like 
the  "  Meditation  on  Christian  If/norance."  Let  me 
tell  you  that  it  is,  in  my  opinion,  the  most  original 
and  important  of  them  all,  —  the  one  that  most  con- 
duces to  the  rational  solution  of  the  questions  which 
trouble  the  mind  in  the  present  day  But  it  reqtiires 
development.  The  seeds  are  planted ;  one  can  only 
guess  at  what  fruit  they  may  produce.  Let  me  tell 
you  that  I  hold  to  the  title,  "  Christian  Ignorance^ 
It  is  the  only  one  that  expresses  my  idea.  Christian 
Humility  has  become  a  devotional  term  and  would 
not  express  my  meaning.  My  conviction  is  that 
Christians  are,  and  must  continue  to  be,  ignorant  of 
the  reason  ivhj  —  the  scientific  explanation  of  the 
great  supernatural  events  in  Christianity.  To  ac- 
knowledge the  truth,  without  seeking  to  explain  it, 
constitutes  Christian  Faith.  I  apply  this  idea  to  the 
double  nature  of  Our  Saviour  and  to  the  Trinity. 
Both  these  facts  are  evangelically  certain ;  every 
attempt  to  form  them  into  a  system,  that  is  to  say, 
to  explain  them  scientifically,  is  vain  and  false.  I 
own  that  this  theory  sets  on  one  side  a  great  many 
canonical  councils  and  theological  systems,  but  one 
must  choose  between  Divine  assertion  and  human 
knowledge.  Once  more  I  repeat  I  am  sorry  that  I 
could  not  give  all  the  developments  which  were 
necessary  to  the  fidl  elucidation  of  the  subject ;  but 
you  are  one  of  those  rare  critics  who,  having  once 
seized  on  an  idea,  can  follow  it  out  in  all  its 
bearings.' 


326  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT    IN    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

In  1864  he  wrote  to  M.  de  Barante  one  of  those 
intimate  conversational  letters  which  are  like  the 
distant  echo  of  a  long  and  close  friendship :  — 

'  My  dear  friend,  I  have  just  written  to  your  poor 
sister.*  I  pity  her  from  my  heart.  I  know  what  it 
is  to  lose  a  son,  a  son  who  had  attained  manhood,  an 
excellent  son.  It  seemed  to  me  that  you  and  he 
were  united  by  a  real  friendship.  We  pass  our 
lives  between  expected  and  vmexpected  deaths.  Tell 
me  some  news  of  yourself.  I  do  not  know  if  you 
feel  as  I  do  —  that  you  are  less  able  to  bear  with 
fortitude  the  loss  of  those  you  love  now  than  you 
were  formerly.  The  nearer  one  is  to  the  time  when 
one  must  leave  them,  the  sadder  it  appears  to  see 
them  go  before.  I  entered  my  seventy-eighth  year 
yesterday,  but  life  does  not  seem  to  me  fragile  for 
myself.  In  1833  I  lost  my  Avife,  and  in  1837  my 
elder  son  —  both  of  them  so  young,  so  happy,  so 
full  of  life !  Since  that  time  I  have  lost  all  confi- 
dence in  life  for  others ;  I  have  never  felt  safe. 

'  It  is  a  long  while  since  I  have  written  to  you. 
I  often  think  of  yoii,  and  long  to  talk  with  you,  we 
spent  so  many  years  together.  I  am  sure  that  it  is 
not  from  an  old  man's  prejudice  that  I  prefer  our 
times  to  these.  Even  if  we  were  not  looking  at 
them  from  this  point  of  view ;  if  we  beheld  what  is 
now  going  on  from  some  other  sphere,  we  should  be 
of  the  same  opinion.     Indecision  and  impotence  are 


*  M.  Etienne  Anisson-Duperron   had  just  died.     His  mother 
yras  M.  de  Barante's  sister. 


HIS  'memoirs'  and  'meditations.'         327 

the  characteristics  of  the  men  of  the  present  day. 
They  exliibit  neither  fixed  opinions  nor  strong  will 
in  anything  they  do.  They  float  and  follow  the 
course  of  the  stream.  Count  Bismarck  is  the  only 
man  in  Europe  who  seems  to  be  really  ambitious, 
or  who  perseveres  in  a  plan,  because  he  has  con- 
ceived it,  and  is  determined  to  effect  it.  He  has 
neither  good  sense  nor  honesty,  but  he  has  char- 
acter. 

'  Can  you  imagine  anything  more  contemptible 
than  this  neAv  phase  of  the  Roman  Question  1  We 
leave  Rome  trembling  and  regretting  our  departure. 
Shall  we  have  really  left  it  two  years  hence  ?  At 
any  rate,  our  conduct  has  produced  the  effect  of 
desertion  in  the  minds  of  all  the  clergy  I  meet. 

'  Good-bye,  dear  friend.  Give  me  some  news  of 
yourself.  How  are  you?  What  are  you  doing? 
I  am  hard  at  work.  I  am  writing  the  seventh  vol- 
ume of  my  Memoirs,  from  1842  to  1846.  I  expect 
to  publish  it  in  the  course  of  the  winter ;  I  shall 
then  resume  the  second  volume  of  my  Meditations 
on  the  Christian  Religion.  It  will  take  me  three 
years  to  finish  these  two  works.  Will  they  be 
granted  to  me  ?     I  hope  so.     God  must  decide.' 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

1866-72. 

FINISHES   HIS   TWO   WORKS FRANCO-GERMAN   WAR. 

The  Queen,  Marie  Amelie,  died  at  Claremont,  on 
the  twenty-fom-th  of  March,  1866.  On  the  twenty- 
fifth  M.  Guizot  wrote : — 

'  The  newspapers  will  take  you  the  sad  news  of 
the  Queen's  death.  Bocher  came  to  tell  me  yester- 
day at  six  o'clock ;  his  orders  were  to  inform  all  the 
friends.  The  telegraphic  despatch  says:  —  "The 
Queen  expired  suddenly  and  quietly  this  morning 
at  eleven  o'clock.  No  other  details."  It  is  said 
that  after  suffering  for  forty-eight  hours  from  a  cold, 
her  breath  failed  her.  A  great  soul  has  taken  flight, 
after  a  beautiful  life  full  of  sorrows  and  trials.  I 
shall  always  think  of  her  with  respect  and  sadness. 
She  bore  all  her  trials  with  dignity  and  fortitude ; 
she  preserved  her  animation  and  serenity  to  the  last ; 
she  united  the  seriousness  of  a  Christian  to  the  vi- 
vacity of  a  Sicilian.  Nothing,  of  course,  has  yet 
been  said  about  the  funeral  I  am  determined  to 
attend  it.  No  other  occasion  would  induce  me  to 
re-visit  England.' 


f./J"A';/| 


LA   HEINE   AMELIE. 


FINISHES    HIS    TWO    WORKS.  329 

On  the  twenty-eighth  of  June  he  wrote  to  M.  de 
Barante  :  — 

'  I  am  dehghted,  my  dear  friend,  that  you  are 
pleased  with  the  new  vohime  of  my  Meditations. 
Although  we  live  at  a  great  distance  from  each 
other,  I  am  sure  that  our  old  sympathy  still  con- 
tinues, and  will  continue.  It  is,  indeed,  of  very 
ancient  date,  and  it  has  gone  through  many  trials. 
It  is  derived  from  a  soui'ce  which  is  far  above  trials 
or  the  effects  of  years. 

'  I  am  sorry  that  your  health  never  allows  you  to 
come  to  Paris.  But  while  I  regret  it,  I  understand 
it.  I  am  a  few  years  younger  than  you  are,  and  I 
have  better  health ;  but  I  scarcely  ever  leave  Val- 
Richer.  I  have  just  spent  twenty-four  hours  in 
England,  to  attend  our  Queen's  funeral,  and  I  have 
been  passing  two  days  in  Paris  for  the  elections  at 
the  Academy  of  Moral  Science.  I  am  always  in  a 
great  hm-ry  to  retm-n  to  my  home,  which  I  never 
leave  unless  there  is  some  evident  necessity.  I 
have  two  tasks  to  finish,  if  God  will  allow  me,  my 
Memoirs  and  my  Meditations,  I  am  anxious  to  say 
what  I  have  done  in  this  world,  and  what  I  tliink 
about  the  next.  I  shall  devote  this  summer  and 
autumn  to  the  eighth  and  last  volume  of  my  Me- 
moirs. I  hope  to  publish  it  in  March,  1867.  I 
leave  oflf,  of  course,  with  the  twenty-thu'd  of  Feb- 
ruary, 1848,  when  my  Ministry  fell. 

'  I  am  speaking  of  nothing  but  myself  My  life 
is  less  distm-bed  than  the  world.  How  many  things 
we  should  have  to  say  if  we  could  talk  together, 


330  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

and  how  much  we  should  enjoy  sharing  the  same 
opinions !     But  we  are  too  far  apart. 

'  Here  are  the  Itahans  beaten  in  the  besrinnino-  • 
if  the  Prussians  meet  with  the  same  fate  a  sokition 
may  be  foreseen.  If  the  war  should  continue,  it 
will  invade  the  whole  of  Europe ;  and  God  alone 
knows  how  and  when  it  will  end. 

'  Farewell,  dear  friend.  Preserve  all  the  friend- 
ship you  gave  me  long  ago,  and  believe  that  I  do 
not  change  any  more  than  you  do.' 

M.  de  Barante  died  on  the  twenty-second  of  No- 
vember, 1866;  a  passage  in  his  will  testifies  his 
constant  attachment  to  the  friend  whom  he  preceded 
by  a  few  years  into  eternity.  M.  Guizot  attached 
great  importance  to  rendering  justice  to  his  memory. 

In  a  letter  to  M.  Vitet,  who,  as  well  as  himself, 
was  suffering  severe  anxiety  on  account  of  another 
friend,  M.  Duchatel,  equally  bound  up  with  both 
their  lives,  M.  Guizot  says  :  — 

'  I  cannot  tell  whether  I  am  glad  to  know  that 
you  are  at  Pied-du-Teme  instead  of  Dieppe,  or  if 
the  sadness  of  expectation  be  not  even  more  painful 
than  that  of  witnessing  such  a  scene.  I  have  long 
been  touched  by  your  fraternal  afi"ection  for  Du- 
chatel. Your  sorrow  must  be,  and  will  continue  to 
be,  great.  You  have  experienced  one  that  was  still 
more  severe.  Like  you,  I  have  witnessed  the  deaths 
of  those  whom  I  loved  best  in  the  world.  I  can 
remember  the  anguish  of  those  days  as  distinctly  as 
if  it  were  yesterday,  and  yet,  at  that  time,  I  should 


FINISHES    niS    TWO   WORKS.  331 

have  considered  it  as  the  greatest  happiness  to  be 
sure  that  my  anguish  would  last  forever.  I  do  not 
say,  as  was  said  by  the  poor  little  Queen  whose 
name  I  cannot  just  now  remember,  "  Fie  upon 
life ! "  but  I  have  an  immense  pity  for  all  that  is 
lost  and  suffered  in  it. 

'  People  are  pleased  with  the  article  upon  Barante. 
I  am  glad  of  it  for  the  sake  of  his  family  and  of  his 
memory.  It  gives  me  pleasure  to  put  my  own  time 
and  my  friends  into  their  right  place.  The  Pere 
Gratry*  wrote  to  me,  with  a  delightful,  cliildlike 
candour,  that  he  opened  the  Revue  with  fear;  but 
that,  after  he  had  read  it,  he  was  completely  reas- 
sui'ed.  He  thinks  that  we  agree  in  our  opinion,  and 
that  I  have  indicated  his  views  without  borrowins: 
from  them.  I  am  quite  sure  that  I  have  borrowed 
nothing  from  you,  and  that,  while  you  agree  with 
me  you  will  say  things  that  I  have  not  said.' 

Wlien  M.  Guizot  wrote  this  notice  of  M.  de  Barante 
he  had  just  finished  his  Memoirs. 

'  Ouf!  I  have  finished  my  Memoirs ! '  he  wrote 
on  the  twentieth  of  March.  '  I  have  just  written 
the  last  line  of  my  summary;  Michel  Levy  will 
fetch  it  to-morrow,  or  the  day  after.  It  is  now  in 
the  hands  of  the  printer  and  publisher.  I  have  a 
feeling  of  great  satisfaction  and  repose.  I  had  the 
termination  of  this  work  very  much  at  heart.     I 


*  The  Pere  Gratry  replaced  M.  de  Barante  at  the  Academy 
and  was  received  by  M.  Vitet.  Each  had  therefore  to  speak  of 
M.  de  Barante.  —  Tr. 


332  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

have  still  one  left  to  finish,  and  I  hope  God  will 
give  me  time  and  strength  to  do  so,  I  feel,  just 
now,  as  if  I  should  like  to  set  oiF  on  a  tour  round 
the  world ;  but  I  shall  do  nothing  of  tlie  sort ! ' 

M.  Guizot's  Meditations  were  finished,  as  well  as 
his  Memoirs,  when  he  was  deprived  of  the  last  and 
dearest  of  his  friends.  On  the  twenty-first  of  Octo- 
ber, 1868,  he  wi'ote  from  Broglie :  — 

'  I  found  the  Due  de  Broglie  well,  both  in  body 
and  mind,  biit  still  less  able  to  move.  "I  am  in 
good  health ;  but  my  feet  no  longer  carry  me.  I 
am  going  on  well,  only  I  cannot  go  on  at  all. 
Our  sympathy  is  more  complete  than  ever.' 

On  the  twenty-sixth  of  January,  1870,  he  wrote 
to  his  elder  daughter :  — 

"  My  child,  you  will  be  almost  as  grieved  as  I 
am.  The  Due  de  Broglie  died  last  night  at  ten 
o'clock ;  he  was  suffocated  as  he  was  getting  into 
bed  —  without  any  pain  or  uneasiness.  He  exjDu-ed 
suddenly.  I  was  with  him  at  four  o'clock ;  he  was 
sitting  quietly  reading  in  his  armchair ;  he  could 
use  only  his  left  hand ;  he  complained  of  nothing 
but  want  of  sleep.  When  I  left  him  I  felt  anxious, 
from  the  depression,  not  of  his  mind  but  of  his  coun- 
tenance, and  yet  I  was  not  anxious  enough.  Mis- 
fortune is  always  unexpected.  I  have  lost  my  oldest, 
my  best,  and  most  distinguished  friend.  His  was  a 
beautiful  character ;  so  dignified  and  yet  so  modest ; 
such  entire  and  unafi'ected  disinterestedness ;  such 
sincere  respect  for  truth  at  the  same  time  as  for  lib- 
erty —  for  Divine  truth  and  human  liberty ;  so  sub- 


FINISHES    HIS    TWO    WORKS.  333 

missive  towards  God  and  devoted  to  the  welfare  of 
mankind  —  lie  had  every  pure  and  noble  sentiment, 
and  no  petty  passions.  When  I  think  of  him  I  feel, 
at  the  same  time,  his  value  and  his  loss.  He  and 
his  wife,  he  and  Lord  Aberdeen,  occupy,  and  will 
always  occupy,  the  same  place  in  my  heart.  I  am 
not  separated  from  tliem  entirely.  When  shall  I  go 
to  join  them  as  well  as  those  whom  I  have  loved 
best  in  this  world  ? 

'  Farewell,  my  child ;  I  still  have  you.  You  know, 
do  you  not,  all  that  you  are  to  me  1  Yesterday,  when 
I  quitted  him,  he  held  out  his  hand  —  his  left  hand, 
the  only  one  he  could  use  —  I  think  there  was  a 
solemn  meaning  in  the  gesture.  I  felt  it  instinctively 
at  the  time.' 

Again,  a  fortnight  later,  on  the  tenth  of  Feb- 
niary :  — 

'  Albert  de  Broglie  (I  find  it  difficult  to  call  him 
the  Due  de  Broglie)  brought  to  me,  yesterday,  this 
paragi'aph  from  his  father's  will :  — 

'  "  I  bequeath  to  my  friend,  M.  Guizot,  a  book  to 
be  chosen  by  him  from  my  library  at  Broglie.  I 
consider  our  long  friendship  as  one  of  the  most  pre- 
cious of  the  gifts  which  God  has  granted  to  me." 

'  I  was  much  affected.  He  could  not  have  ex- 
pressed himself  more  simply  and  affectionately. 
Albert,  also,  was  touched.  As  he  was  leaving  me  he 
said :  "  I  ask  you  to  allow  me  to  do  nothing  with- 
out consulting  you.     You  are  my  second  father." 

'  As  he  spoke  I  seemed  to  see  before  me  his  father 
and  mother;  tAvo  of  the  most  beautiful  characters 


334  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN    PRIVATE   LIFE. 

that  it  has  been  my  privilege  to  know.  Such  privi- 
leges are  the  greatest  strokes  of  good  fortune  which 
can  befall  us  in  life.' 

M.  de  Broglie  left  this  world  when  the  attempt  at 
liberalising  the  Imperial  Government  was  revivino- 
the  hopes  of  the  old  Parliamentarians.  '  We  shall, 
perhaps,  save  ourselves  the  expense  of  a  Revolution,' 
he  said,  with  a  smile.  A  few  months  later,  in  the 
midst  of  the  disasters  which  personal  rule  had  brought 
upon  France,  M.  Guizot's  thoughts  constantly  re- 
verted to  his  friend,  '  How  right  my  poor  Victor  was 
to  die  ! '  he  often  repeated. 

Life  is  everywhere  and  always  mingled  with  death, 
and  joy  with  sadness.  Grandchildren  multiplied 
round  M.  Guizot,  his  second  daughter  gave  birth  to 
her  fourth  son  a  few  days  after  her  own  eldest  daughter 
was  married  to  M.  Theodore  Vernes.  M.  Guizot  was 
very  much  pleased  with  this  marriage,  which  con- 
nected him  with  a  family  and  a  man  *  whom  he  had 
always  esteemed,  and  to  whom  he  soon  became  much 
attached.  He  was  expecting  the  young  couple  at 
Val-Richer.  The  birth  of  his  grandson  Fran9ois 
affected  him  deeply,  on  account  of  the  name  of  the 
infant.  The  time  had  come  when  there  was  a  tender 
satisfaction  in  hearing  it  constantly  repeated. 

'  Give  me  news  of  your  sister  and  of  Francois,'  he 
wrote,  on  the  twenty-third  of  May,  1870,  to  his  elder 
daughter,  '  I  cannot  write  this  name  without  emotion, 


*  M.  Felix  Vernes,  the  father  of  M.  Theodore  Vernes  ;  he  died 
on  the  thirtieth  of  December,  1879. 


'I 


imv'?  .-^^^ 


Jb'^' 


I-''- 


LE    DUC    UE    liROGLIE. 


THE   FRANCO-GERMAN   WAR.  335 

I  am  glad  that  it  lias  been  given  to  the  cliild.  May 
God  give  him  grace  to  resemble  his  uncle  !  I  have 
never  met  a  more  noble  and  charming  character 
tlu-oughout  my  long  life.  He  was  worthy  of  his 
mother. 

'  Om-  sermon  yesterday  dissatisfied  me  while  I 
was  reading  it.  There  is,  of  course,  no  such  thing 
as  legitimate  idolatiy,  but  one  can  never  lionoiir, 
admire,  or  love,  sufficiently  those  natures  which  are 
the  living  though  imperfect  likeness  of  the  Divinity. 
We  must  not  refuse  to  acknowledge  their  deficiencies ; 
but  we  never  sufficiently  recognise  their  value.  I 
felt  this  in  my  youth  when  I  possessed  so  many 
objects  of  tender  adoration.  I  feel  it  still  more  now 
after  having  gone  through  so  many  trials  and  known 
so  many  people.  God  has  bestowed  on  me  the  great- 
est of  all  favours,  one  that  can  be  compared  with  no 
other  —  that  of  knowing  and  possessing  more  than 
one  of  His  noblest  creatures  ! ' 

These  family  rejoicings  and  causes  for  gratitude 
were  soon  followed  by  patriotic  griefs  and  anxieties. 
France  was  advancing  gaily  to  the  edge  of  the 
precipice. 

'  I  am  shocked  and  grieved,'  M.  Guizot  wrote  on 
the  seventeenth  of  July,  1870;  'shocked  by  the 
attitude  of  the  two  governments  and  nations.  In 
1846,  in  the  Spanish  marriages,  England  suffered  a 
much  greater  affront  than  the  candidature  of  the 
Prince  of  Hohenzollern  could  possibly  be  for  France. 
Lord  Palmerston  brought  forward  the  Prince  of 
Coburg  as  the  official  candidate  favoured  by  England, 


336  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

and  was  beaten.  The  marriages  took  place  in  oppo- 
sition to  his  expressed  remonstrance,  but  it  did  not 
enter  into  the  heads  of  the  I^ngHsh,  or  of  Lord 
Pahnerston  himself,  to  go  to  war  with  us.  Yet  the 
Queen,  ministers  and  nation,  were  very  angry  with 
lis.  All  that  took  place  was  a  long  and  excited  dis- 
cussion on  the  preliminaries  by  both  parties.  To-day 
a  candidate,  formally  chosen  by  Spain,  is  displeasing 
to  us ;  Ave  say  as  much  to  Prussia  who  supports  the 
candidate,  and  the  candidate  retires  with  the  appro- 
bation of  his  supporters.  Spain  acquiesces  in  his 
retirement;  this  is  not  enough  for  us,  we  ask  his 
supporters  to  forbid  him  ever,  absolutely  and  under 
any  circumstances,  to  come  forward  again.  And  on 
this  extraordinary  request  Prussia  suddenly,  and 
without  listening  to  another  word,  breaks  off  nego- 
tiations and  declares  war,  and  there  are  crowds  in 
both  countries  who  applaud.  Which  of  tlie  two 
governments  and  nations  is  the  most  entirely  de- 
ficient in  good  sense  and  morality  ?  In  truth,  I  should 
find  it  hard  to  say.  It  is  indeed  a  case  for  the  applica- 
tion of  the  saying  of  the  Chancellor  Oxenstiern.* 

'  I  see  no  good  issue  out  of  all  this,  my  optimism 
fails  me.  Possibly  the  whole  of  Europe  will  be  set 
in  a  blaze,  or  possibly  some  fatal  disaster  to  the  one 
or  other  country  may  occur,  after  cruel  sufferings  on 
both  sides.  I  content  myself  with  the  proverb, 
"  Short  follies  are  the  best."  Take  care  to  send  us 
all  the  news,  true  or  false,  and  I  shall  make  arrange- 


'  With  how  little  wisdom  the  world  is  governed.' — Tb. 


FKANCO-GERMAN   WAR.  337 

ments  for  having  the  letters  sent  twice  every  day 
from  Lisieux.  I  shall  need  an  effort  of  will  to  pre- 
vent myself  from  being  distracted  from  my  work. 
The  ciTisades  of  the  eleventh  century  were  not  more 
blind,  and  they  had  better  excuses  in  those  days  for 
not  seeing  clearly.' 

Asrain  on  the  nineteenth  :  — 

'  This  country  is  in  a  deplorable  state.  It  is  very 
unequally  divided  between  peace  and  war.  Peace 
has  a  larger  majority,  especially  in  the  country,  but 
still  opinion  is  somewhat  divided.  M.  de  Chateau- 
briand was  right  when  he  said,  "France  is  a  soldier," 
and  Marshal  Leboeuf  also  is  right  in  saying,  "The 
French  like  parade,  not  barracks."  The  more  I  think 
over  it  the  more  convinced  am  I  of  my  own  opinion. 
Unfortunately  when  one  is  really  right  one  is  only 
too  right.  Thiers  was  quite  right:  he  spoke  the 
truth,  if  not  the  whole  truth,  when  he  said  so  de- 
cidedly, and  I  approve  highly  of  the  phrase,  that  "  I 
set  value  on  being  i-emembered  Avith  honour." 

'  What  is  going  on,  however,  does  not  surprise  me. 
A  nation's  policy  must  have  risen  into  a  lofty  and 
serene  atmosphere  if  it  is  to  escape  being  buffeted  by 
the  storms  that  agitate  the  regions  below.  A  long 
habit  of  free  government  can  alone  lift  a  people  to 
this  level.  We  are  very  far  from  it.  It  is  deplorable 
—  but  I  repeat  myself 

The  events  which  followed  surpassed,  in  their 
sadness,  M.  Guizot's  melancholy  presentiment.  He 
fell  ill.  At  one  time  his  children  feared  that  he  did 
not  care  to  struggle  against  his  malady,  that  he  was 

22 


338  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

too  sad  and  too  weary  to  wish  to  live.  The  idea, 
however,  struck  him,  while  lying  weak  and  helpless 
in  his  bed,  that  he  might  yet  be  able  to  serve  his 
country  by  telling  the  world  his  opinion  of  the  actual 
state  of  things,  of  their  cause,  and  of  their  possible 
remedies  :  he  rose  up  and  set  to  work ;  but  his  health 
was  shaken  and  his  strength  impaired.  His  courage, 
however,  was  neither  the  one  nor  the  other.  On  the 
twelfth  of  September  he  wrote  to  M.  Vitet :  — 

'  A  few  words,  my  dear  friend,  only  to  give  you 
news  of  myself,  which  I  did  not  choose  to  do  as  long 
as  I  should  have  had  to  give  them  to  you  from  my 
bed. 

*  Grief  and  indignation  are  unwholesome  at  eighty- 
three  years  of  age.  I  have  been  very  ill,  and  I  am 
still  very  weak.  However,  I  am  better,  and  I  feel 
that  I  am  making  a  step  towards  recovery  every  day. 
Would  to  God  that  I  were  as  sure  of  the  recovery  of 
France  as  I  am  of  my  own !  But  France  is  in  an 
acute  crisis.  From  a  distance  she  seems  to  be  bear- 
ing it  pretty  well,  without  boasting  or  despair.  What 
I  hear  from  Paris  agrees  with  these  impressions.  I 
no  longer  call  myself  an  optimist,  but  I  despair  less 
to-day  than  I  did  a  week  ago.  We  are  beginning  to 
save  our  honour.  This  is  all  that  I  dare  hope  for. 
Wliether  you  have  any  hope  or  not  write  and  tell  me 
what  you  see,  and  what  you  think.  We  are  two 
Christian  men,  we  shall  understand  and  support  each 
other.     Good-bye.     I  am  tired.' 

Wlien  the  first  clap  of  thunder  was  heard  all 
M.  Guizot's  childi-en  were  with  him  at  Val-Richer ; 


FRANCO-GERMAN   WAR.  339 

but  it  was  his  principle  that  in  every  painful  crisis 
each  man  should  be  at  his  natural  post.  M.  Cornelis 
de  Witt  returned  to  Paris,  where  his  usual  duties  lay, 
and  his  wife  soon  joined  him,  determined  to  bear 
everything  with  him  and  by  his  side.  Their  daugh- 
ter, Madame  Theodore  de  Vernes,  and  her  hus- 
band and  eldest  child,  stayed  with  them  ;  their  other 
children  remained  at  Val-Richer  with  M.  Guizot 
and  the  eldest  married  couple  in  the  family  —  M. 
and  Madame  Conrad  de  Witt.  They  sent  provisions 
to  Paris  and  took  measures  to  obtain  letters,  without 
anticipating,  in  the  least,  the  total  separation  which 
was  in  store  for  them.  All  communications  ceased 
on  the  eighteenth  of  September ;  Madame  Guillaume 
Guizot  reached  Val-Richer  a  few  days  before  to  hike 
an  affectionate  part  in  the  filial  duties,  in  the  labours 
and  anxieties  of  every  day,  her  husband  remaining 
at  his  post  in  the  besieged  capital.  On  the  ninth 
of  September  M.  Guizot  wrote  to  his  daughter, 
Madame  Cornelis  de  Witt :  — 

'  Gabrielle  arrived  last  night ;  the  train  was  very 
late,  but  she  is  in  excellent  health  and  spints.  She 
has  courage  and  good  sense;  the  two  qualities  of 
most  importance  in  ordinary  life  as  well  as  in  days 
of  trial.  Thank  Cornelis  for  his  last  letter,  its  forti- 
tude and  precision  gave  me  real  pleasure  ;  it  exliibited 
neither  despair  nor  illusions.  I  shall  certainly  write 
to  him  very  soon  ;  I  have  written  to  no  one  but  you 
for  the  last  fortnight. 

*  Your  children  are  well,  and  are  behaving  well ; 
Rachel  is  virtuous,  Suzanne  tractable,  Francois  per- 


340  MONSIEUE   GUIZOT   IN   PEIVATE   LIFE. 

feet.  Robert  and  Pien-e  study  a  little  and  give  no 
trouble.  Robert  is  an  excellent  pui'veyor  of  trout, 
the  only  food  I  have  been  able  to  touch  for  several 
days. 

'  Good-bye,  m}^  child.  I  am  quite  sure  that  you 
write  to  me  every  day,  and  you  are  right  in  so  doin"- ; 
letters  in  themselves  are  a  pleasure,  even  when  they 
contain  only  sad  tidings.' 

Letters  continued  to  be  written  as  a  protest ;  al- 
though, as  they  were  seldom  received,  it  was  a  con- 
tinual effort.  On  the  foui-th  of  October,  M.  Guizot 
wrote : 

'  How  I  miss  you !  I  think  this  is  the  first  time 
that  the  fourth  of  October  has  been  so  unsatisfactory. 
I  send  you  my  blessing,  my  childi-en.  Pauline, 
Cornelis  —  both  the  Cornelis  —  Guillaume,  Marie, 
Theodore,  receive  each  one  of  you  my  blessing,  and 
pray  that  it  may  not  be  long  before  we  are  reunited  ! 
How  much  happiness  and  soitow  are  contained  in  a 
long  life  !  When  I  ransack  up  my  memory,  when  I 
go  over  again  all  that  I  have  done,  thought,  and  felt, 
since  the  fourth  of  October,  1787,  I  can  scarcely 
believe  that  so  much  has  taken  place  in  a  few  years. 
And  it  all  still  lives  and  is  present  in  my  heart.  I 
do  not  know  if  I  have  learned  all  that  I  ought  to 
have  learned,  but  I  have  forgotten  nothing. 

'  All  that  are  here  were  with  me  just  now,  break- 
fasting and  reciting  —  Marguerite,  a  long  and  charm- 
ing legend  in  English  verse ;  Jeanne,  an  excellent 
translation  of  five  or  six  of  the  most  beautiful  and 
difficult  pages  of  Milton  ;  Robert,  a  copy  of  verses ; 


FRAJSrCO-GEUMAN    WAR.  341 

Pierre,  Racliel,  and  Suzanne,  recited  each  a  long  piece 
of  poetry  very  well,  Rachel  especially.  They  are 
happy,  —  very  happy  now.  They  will  have  their 
share  of  sorrow,  God  grant  that  it  may  not  be  too 
heavy ! 

'  I  write  to-day  only  to  you,  for  you  all.  Heniiette 
is  writing  to  Marie.  You  will  all  have  letters  if  they 
reach  you.  My  health  is  improving  daily.  I  have 
some  reason  to  hope  that  my  letters  to  my  English 
fi-iends  will  not  be  without  effect.' 

Again,  on  the  twenty -fom'th  of  October :  — 
'  At  length  we  are  allowed  to  breathe  occasion- 
ally. We  have  received  your  letters  of  the  four- 
teenth and  eighteenth;  the  one  of  the  fourteenth 
reached  us  last,  having  gone  round  by  England.  I 
hope  that  by  trying  every  means,  our  letters  will 
sometimes  reach  you.  All  is  going  on  well  in  this 
house,  and  not  badly  in  the  country  round.  There 
is  neither  enthusiasm  nor  weakness.  Calvados  is  in 
a  disturbed  condition ;  there  are  GOOO  of  the  garde 
mobile  at  Dreux.  They  have  already  fought  well, 
and  I  hope  that  they  will  continue  to  do  so.  An- 
other Prussian  attack  is  announced.  I  often  send 
letters  to  England  and  to  the  departments.  To  the 
English  I  maintain  that  England's  neutrality  may 
be  efficaciovis  without  being  warlike,  and  that  it 
ought  to  be  so  on  pain  of  losing  her  political  influ- 
ence in  Europe.  I  advise  oui*  departments  to  trust 
to  no  illusions  nor  yet  to  despair.  For  the  mad  cry, 
"  a  Berlin,  a  Berlin  !  "  the  cry,  "  a  Paris,  a  Paris!  " 
should  be  substituted.  I  am  especially  anxious 
about  food  for  you. 


342  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

'  Your  children  are  very  good,  both  boys  and 
girls ;  Rachel  is  always  exemplary.  I  do  not  think 
I  ever  saw  a  child  of  her  age  acquire  so  quickly  the 
feeling  of  duty  and  the  power  of  self-government  — 
the  two  capital  qualities  in  this  life.  Good-bye,  my 
child ;   my  love  to  all.' 

When  the  lamentable  termination  to  the  war  at 
length  threw  open  the  gates  of  Paris,  M.  Coi-nelis  de 
Witt,  who  was  one  of  the  first  to  leave  the  city, 
heard,  as  soon  as  he  set  foot  in  Normandy,  that  he 
had  been  elected  a  Deputy  for  Calvados.  Twice 
already,  in  1863  and  1869,  he  had  been  the  Liberal 
Conservative  candidate,  now  that  in  the  hour  of 
public  danger  he  was  elected,  he  immediately  set 
out  through  the  wasted  and  pillaged  country,  still 
occupied  by  foreign  troops,  to  Bordeaux.  His  wife 
an-ived  soon  afterwards  at  Val-Richer,  where  she 
was  surrounded  by  all  her  family.  Her  hair  had 
turned  white,  and  her  health,  though  apparently 
good,  had  received  a  shock  fi-om  which  it  never 
recovered.  '  My  heart  has  not  been  at  ease  for  five 
months,'  she  said.  Only  three  times  had  the  at- 
tempts to  carry  news  of  those  she  loved  to  her 
succeeded. 

The  gi-ief  and  anger  caused  by  the  events  which 
were  taking  place  in  Paris  —  the  humiliation  of  the 
Commune  added  to  the  humiliations  of  national  de- 
feat and  the  bitterness  of  a  forced  peace  —  cruelly 
tried  the  bravest  hearts.  Madame  Comelis  de  Witt 
had  endured  all  the  privations  of  the  siege  with  a 
courageous  natural  gaiety  which  surprised  her  friends. 


FRANCO-GERJIAN    WAR.  343 

She  was  often  ill  diu-ing  the  year  1871,  and  when 
she  returned  to  Paris  for  the  ojiening  of  the  schools, 
her  family  were  in  sad  anxiety  about  her.  She  con- 
cealed all  her  own  personal  misgivings,  and  bravely 
fulfilled  her  onerous  task.  Her  father  wrote  to  her 
on  the  twenty-first  of  November  in  answer  to  a 
request  on  her  part :  — 

'  Certainly,  my  child  ;  I  will  give  you  my  manu- 
script on  Washington.  I  left  it  in  my  desk  in  Paris, 
where  I  happened  to  be  when  M.  Gavard  brought  it 
to  me  from  London,  and  I  will  add  to  it  my  manu- 
script on  the  Due  de  Broglie,  which  is  here,  and 
which  I  will  bring  with  me  on  the  twentieth  of 
December.  Of  my  tlu-ee  sons,  your  husband  is,  and 
always  will  be,  the  j^olitician ;  he  ought,  therefore, 
to  possess  my  two  portraits  of  the  two  great  and 
honest  politicians  who  founded,  with  so  much  disin- 
terestedness, the  one  a  Republic,  the  other  a  Consti- 
tutional Monarchy.  It  gave  me  a  real  pleasure  to 
wi-ite  of  them  as  I  thought,  and  it  will  be  an  equal 
pleasure  to  deposit  what  I  wrote  in  good  hands.' 

M.  Guizot  went  on  writing  without  intennission. 
After  finishing  his  two  great  works,  besides  several 
stray  pieces,  introductions  and  reflections  which  he 
added  to  his  collected  writings,  he  wrote  the  lives  of 
St.  Louis  and  of  Calvin,  the  first  two  of  the  four 
great  French  Christians,  both  Catholic  and  Protes- 
tant, whom  he  was  anxious  to  describe.  At  a  later 
date  he  intended  to  add  to  them  the  portraits  of  St. 
Vincent  de  Paul  and  Duplessis-Momay.  He  sus- 
pended, only  while  he  wrote  his  notice  on  the  Due 


344  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

de  Broglie,  his  new  and  important  work  on  the  His- 
tory of  France,  founded  upon  the  lessons  with  which 
he  for  many  years  had  delighted  his  grandchildren. 
The  war  interrupted  tlie  publication  of  the  book, 
and  likewise  interfered  with  the  author's  progress, 
for  M.  Guizot  was  absorbed  by  patriotic  anxieties, 
and  employed  in  trying  to  enlighten  Europe  on  the 
state  of  France,  while  he  endeavoured  to  raise  and 
sustain  the  country  itself.  He  resumed  his  task  as 
soon  as  quiet  was  in  a  measure  restored,  and  his 
first  volume  appeared  towards  the  end  of  the  year 
1871. 

M.  Vitet  undertook  to  introduce  it  to  the  readers 
of  the  Revue  des  Deux  Mondes.  M.  Guizot  wrote  to 
him  on  the  seventeenth  of  May,  1872  :  — 

'  My  dear  Friend,  —  I  am  delighted  that  you 
think  as  you  say,  and  delighted  that  you  said  what 
you  thought.  I  hope  that  it  is  really  true.  It  was, 
indeed,  in  the  first  place  for  the  instruction  of  my 
grandcliildren,  for  their  instruction  through  their 
imagination,  but  not  for  them  alone,  that  I  began, 
and,  God  willing,  shall  finish  this  important  work. 
I  fancied  that  I  might  help  to  restore  France  in  her 
present  ruins  by  setting  before  her  a  faithful  picture 
of  the  recoveries  of  former  days  in  her  long  life.  It 
is  only  our  faith  in  a  resurrection  which  enables  us 
poor  creatures  to  endure  the  idea  of  death.  It  ought 
to  be  the  same  thing  for  nations.  They  are  not 
dead  as  long  as  they  are  and  feel  themselves  to  be 
alive,  they  do  not  fall  into  decrepitude  as  long  as 
they  do  not  yield  to  it,  and  can  look  back  to  former 


FRANCO-GERMAN  WAR.  345 

resurrections  in  their  history.  This  has  been  my 
second  motive  (after  that  of  teaching  my  grandchil- 
dren) for  writing  this  book  and  taking  a  seiious 
interest  in  it.  Thank  you  for  having  so  well  under- 
stood and  interpreted  me. 

'I  shall  not  talk  to  you  of  anything  else  this 
morning.  I  am  trying  to  get  a  few  numbers  of  my 
book  ready  before  I  have  to  attend  to  the  Synod. 
It  is  to  be  open  on  the  sixth  of  June,  and  will,  I 
suppose,  take  up  my  time  for  the  whole  month. 
God  has  done  well  in  not  permitting  us  to  know 
beforehand  the  limits  to  our  powers,  if  we  did  we 
should  often  not  undertake  what,  after  all,  perhaps, 
we  may  be  able  sometimes  to  cany  through.' 

M.  Guizot  always  tried  his  powers  to  the  utmost. 
He  at  length,  to  his  great  satisfaction,  succeeded  in  a 
project  at  which  he  had  long  been  working  in  the 
service  of  the  French  Protestant  Chiu'ch.  He  wished 
to  re-establish  the  ancient  traditional  discipline,  at 
the  same  time  free  and  well  regulated,  of  the  old 
French  Protestants.  He  himself  prepared  all  the 
papers  and  gave  himself  up  to  the  work  with  a  con- 
stant enthusiasm  which  could  not  fail  to  exhaust 
him.  He  wrote  on  the  twenty-seventh  of  May,  1872, 
to  his  second  daughter  :  — 

'  Your  sister  has  told  you  that  you  would  see  me 
arrive  on  Sunday  second  instead  of  on  Monday  the 
third  of  June.  There  is  to  be  a  great  conference  of 
the  evangelical  delegates  at  the  Synod  on  Monday 
at  one  o'clock  ;  they  have  asked  me  to  attend,  and  I 
wish  to  do  so.     I  therefore  hasten  my  departure  by 


346  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

one  day.  I  hope  that  my  little  Pierre  will  be  quite 
well  by  that  time.  The  fine  weather  has  come  back, 
not  yet  warm  enough,  but  fine  and  mild.  I  am  told 
that  Rachel  nursed  her  little  brother  admirably  dur- 
ing his  illness  —  a  good,  loveable  girl  by  the  side  of 
a  good,  loveable  boy.  May  God  bless  them  both ; 
I  long  to  see  them  again  ! ' 

M.  Guizot  du-ected  the  opening  labours  of  the 
Synod ;  but  he  could  not  continue  the  effort,  and  it 
was  from  Val-Richer  that  he  followed  its  final 
deliberations  with  constant  interest.  *  God  has  be- 
stowed great  favom-s  upon  me,'  he  often  said  ;  '  He 
has  permitted  me  to  employ  my  activity,  first  in 
literature,  then  in  politics,  and,  finally,  in  the  service 
of  religion.  I  hope  to  continue  this  last  to  the  end 
of  my  appointed  course.' 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

1871-74. 

DEATH  OF  HIS  YOUNGER  DAUGHTER HIS  LAST  ILLNESS 

AND    DEATH. 

M.  GuizoT  was  once  more  settled  at  Val-Richer, 
surrounded  by  the  greater  number  of  his  children 
and  grandchildren ;  he  wrote  on  the  twenty-first  of 
July,  1872,  to  his  younger  daughter:  — 

*  I  delight  in  seeing  your  tliree  little  ones  pass 
backwards  and  forwards  in  front  of  my  windows, 
and  in  hearing  their  voices.  Francois  is  the  least  talk- 
ative and  noisy,  Rachel  is  restrained  by  her  dig- 
nity, but  Suzanne  chatters,  screams,  and  jumps  about 
enough  for  all  three ;  she  has  succeeded  in  exciting 
Dorothea,*  who  is  shy  and  proud,  and  who  does  not 
know  a  word  of  French.  Suzanne  knows  only  a  few 
English  words,  but  she  talks  just  as  fluently  as  if  it 
were  French  to  Dorothea,  whom  she  understands, 
and  contrives  to  make  understand.  It  is  an  amusing 
little  scene.  I  like  to  look  at  children,  they  rest  me 
from  looking  at  men.     You  are  coming  on  Wednes- 


A  little  English  friend  who  was  staying  at  Val-Richer. 


348  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

day ;  I  adjoui-n,  therefore,  this  conversation.  I  find 
letters  so  insuflficient.  Robert  will  find  Figaro  and 
his  white  rabbits  in  excellent  health,  and  very  glad  to 
see  him  again.  I  mean  Figaro,  I  do  not  know  what 
to  think  about  the  memory  and  sympathy  of  rabbits.' 

Almost  on  the  same  day,  M.  Guizot  wrote  to  M. 
Vitet:  — '  Pray  write  to  me ;  you  know  how  devoted 
is  my  friendship.  There  are  very  few  left  of  our  old 
and  excellent  battalion.' 

The  one  to  whom  he  addressed  these  words  was 
soon  to  disappear  from  its  ranks. 

Fifteen  years  earlier,  on  the  twenty-third  of  Feb- 
ruary, 1858,  M.  Guizot  had  written:  — 

*  Poor  Madame  Vitet  died  last  night.  I  am  dis- 
tressed beyond  measure.  How  lonely  her  unhappy 
husband  will  be !  No  childi-en,  an  old  mother,  who 
is  perfectly  deaf,  and  a  sister  who  has  a  husband  and 
children  of  her  own.  What  can  friends  do  to  solace 
such  grief?  What  can  the  cold,  distant  sympathy  of 
friends  whom  one  sees  only  from  time  to  time  do  to 
replace  such  an  intimate  union  1  I  know  it  by  my 
own  experience ;  and  now,  when  I  reflect  upon  all  I 
feel  for  Vitet  at  this  moment,  I  am  aghast  at  the 
worthlessness  and  impotence  of  friendship.  Our 
only  consolation  is  in  God.  We  must  cherish  the 
past  in  our  inmost  hearts,  and  look  forward  to  our 
future  life.' 

M.  Vitet  did  this,  and  in  his  turn,  on  the  sixth  of 
June,  1873,  he  obtained  his  eternal  reward.  M. 
Guizot  wrote  to  his  second  daughter,  who  had  just 
returned  from  spending  the  winter  at  Mentone,  for 
the  sake  of  her  health :  — 


DEATH  OF  HIS  YOUNGER  DAUGHTER.     349 

'  It  is  a  real  sorrow,  and  I  know  what  sorrow  is. 
I  have  had  Mends  of  gi-eater  depth  and  learning 
than  he  was,  but  not  one  more  agreeable.  He  was 
full  of  refinement  and  distinction  in  every  respect, 
in  liis  ideas,  his  feelings,  his  habits,  tastes,  sympa- 
thies and  antipathies.  Yet  there  was  no  pretension 
in  all  this  refinement ;  it  was  a  simple  natural  ele- 
vation, and  he  was  as  faithful  to  his  friends  as  to  his 
opinions.  I  try  to  think  if  he  had  a  single  fault, 
and  I  can  find  none.  Om*  friendship  dates  from 
1819,  when  he  first  entered  the  Normal  School  and 
a  little  into  society.  He  was  seventeen  and  I  was 
thirty-two.  From  that  time  there  was  neither  a 
gap  nor  a  cloud.  One  of  the  last  links  is  now 
broken,  and  I  have  taken  another  step  into  mental 
solitude.  You  know  what  I  have  left  to  me,  and 
that  I  cherish  my  treasures  more  than  ever.  May 
God  spare  me  as  respects  my  children  and  grand- 
children. It  seems  to  me,  that  they  are  the  only 
vulnerable  points  I  have  left ;  but  who  can  tell  in 
what  corner,  in  what  inmost  recess  of  the  soul,  he 
may  be  wounded  1  Farewell,  my  child  ;  is  it  not  a 
pity  that  every  joy  in  life  is  liable  to  become  a  grief? 
I  repeat  to  myself  every  day  that  we  ought  not  to 
let  the  trials  which  God  inflicts  make  us  forget  His 
gifts.     Good-bye,  my  child.' 

'June  8th. 

'  I  am  not  naturally  melancholy  ;  but  the  trials  of 
life  are  so  many  and  so  great  that  they  have  made 
a  deeply-seated  melancholy  habitual  to  me  ;  I  return 
to  it  natiu-ally  with  every  fresh  cause.   It  only  rather 


350  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT    IK   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

confuses  me  to  make  my  recollections  of  happiness 
agree  with  my  instinctive  sadness,  my  bursts  of 
gratitude  with  my  habitual  regret.  Human  life  is 
full  of  inconsistencies  and  contradictions.  We  must 
learn  to  accept  it  as  it  is. 

'  I  have  just  received  a  long  letter  from  Cuvillier 
Fleury  on  the  effect  produced  by  Vitet's  unexpected 
death,  and  on  the  sympathy  generally  expressed 
with  him.  It  is  light  and  proper.  The  country  is 
not  wanting  in  good  and  honest  servants,  but  its 
rare  and  beautiful  ornaments  are  passing  away,  and 
I  see  no  new  ones  arising.  It  is  not  enough  for  a 
great  country  to  be  prosperous,  it  ought  to  be  splen- 
did. I  intend  to  write  a  few  pages  on  Vitet  in  the 
Revue  des  Deux  Mondes.  Although  I  am  avaricious 
of  my  time,  I  must  consecrate  two  or  three  days  to 
his  memory.     My  great  work  is  going  on  well.' 

The  third  volume  of  the  History  of  France  as  told 
to  my  Grandchildren,  was  nearly  finished,  when  M. 
Guizot,  for  the  last  time,  interrupted  his  work  to  do 
homage  to  the  memory  of  a  friend  —  a  homage 
which  his  friends  should  have  paid  to  him  if  death 
had  kept  count  of  years. 

It  was  now  that  the  last  severe  blow  came  to 
shatter  all  that  remained  of  the  powers  which  had 
been  so  long  and  so  admirably  preserved.  On  her 
return  from  Mentone,  in  April,  1873,  Madame  Cor- 
nells de  Witt  was  attacked  by  pleurisy,  which  left 
her  weak  and  languid  —  more  weak,  indeed,  than 
languid.  As  soon  as  she  was  able  to  travel,  she 
went   to  Val-Richer,   to   enjoy   the   happiness   she 


M    GUIZOT,   AGED    EIGHTY  YEARS. 


DEATH  OF  HIS  YOUNGER  DAUGHTER.     351 

always  found  in  the  bosom  of  her  family  —  a  re- 
pose and  well-being  Avliich  did  not  fail  her  even 
then.  She  was  not,  however,  allowed  to  remain 
there.  The  fourth  of  October  always  brought  all 
M.  Guizot's  children  round  him,  and  on  the  next 
day  Madame  Cornelis  de  Witt  set  out  for  Paris,  the 
first  stage  on  her  journey  to  Cannes.  She  left  with 
a  sad  presentiment,  wliich  even  her  bi'avery  could 
not  conceal.  M.  Guizot  followed  her  to  Paris  to  see 
her  once  more.  After  embracing  him  for  the  last 
time,  she  quitted  his  study  and  looked  neither  to  the 
riffht  nor  to  the  left  as  she  went  downstairs  on  her 
way  to  the  cai-riage  which  was  to  take  her  to  the 
station ;  she  did  not  speak  and  scarcely  appeared  to 
breathe,  it  seemed  as  if  she  had  gathered  up  all  her 
energies  in  order  to  endure  a  trial  which  she  felt 
was  too  much  for  her  strength. 

The  father  and  daughter  did  not  see  each  other 
again  until  they  met  in  the  life  eternal. 

On  the  seventeenth  of  October,  M.  Guizot  wrote 
to  her :  — 

'  Your  letters,  my  child,  reached  us  yesterday, 
one  in  the  morning  and  another  in  the  evening.  I 
need  not  tell  you  how  much  pleasure  they  gave  us. 
My  affections  kill  my  optimism :  my  long  experi- 
ence has  inspired  me  with  permanent  anxiety. 
Every  absence,  every  journey,  every  known  or 
unknown  chance  of  accidents,  shakes  my  courage 
to  the  very  centre,  although  I  do  not  show  it.  You 
have,  however,  arrived,  and  are  settled  comfortably. 
May  God  take  you  under  his  care,  my  child.     We 


352  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT   IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

are  not  there  —  I  do  not  say,  to  take  care  of  you 
for  this  would  be  beyond  our  powers  —  but  to  look 
at  you  and  say  to  each  other,  "  She  is  with  us ! " 
Your  husband  left  you  yesterday,  another  cause  for 
sorrow  and  anxiety.     You  are,  happily,  very  brave. 

'  Your  children  are  well.  What  a  pity  that  sacri- 
fice cannot  give  us  security  !  Our  only  resource  is  in 
resignation  to  the  unknown  will  of  God. 

'  His  will  in  public  affairs  is  hidden  from  us,  and 
my  faith  is  sorely  tried  in  that  respect.  It  is  said 
that  the  Comte  de  Chambord's  final  decision  will 
arrive  to-morrow.  I  do  not  believe  in  finality.  It 
is,  however,  what  the  country  requires  —  to  be  set- 
tled definitively  for  twenty  years  —  we  do  not  ask 
for  more.' 

This  separation  was  indeed  a  great  sacrifice,  for 
M.  Cornelis  de  Witt  was  retained  at  Versailles  and 
Paris  by  his  legislative  duties.  He  took  a  journey 
of  500  leagues,  as  often  as  he  possibly  could,  in 
order  to  spend  two  or  three  days  with  his  wife ;  but 
these  flashes  of  joy  were  only  just  enough  to  enable 
them  to  bear  a  separation  which  was  becoming  more 
and  more  cruel  every  day,  for  she  was  growing 
weaker  and  weaker.  The  children  she  was  not  able 
to  take  with  her  to  Cannes  paid  her  frequent  visits. 
At  length  her  eldest  daughter  settled  herself  there, 
and  her  sister,  who  came  only  for  a  few  days,  re- 
mained there  to  the  last  moment,  which  was  nearer 
at  hand  than  had  been  foreseen  by  their  most  anxious 
fears.  The  invalid's  energy  long  preserved  their 
ilhisions,  but  at  length  she  laid  down  her  bui'den ; 


HIS    LAST   ILLNESS   AND   DEATH.  353 

she  no  longer  struggled  or  opposed  any  resistance 
to  the  disease  wliich  took  entire  possession  of  her. 
She  accepted  the  will  of  God  while  confiding  to  Him 
all  whom  she  loved  with  the  calm  and  simple  trust 
which  had  supported  her  through  the  trials  of  life 
She  expired  on  the  twenty-eighth  of  February,  1874, 
surrounded  by  all  her  family,  and  leaving  an  irrep- 
arable void  in  more  than  one  life. 

M.  Guizot  had  borne  her  absence  with  fortitude, 
he  now  submitted  humbly  to  her  loss,  but  those  who 
loved  him  were  not  deceived  as  to  the  effect  of  grief 
upon  a  heart  wliich  seeijaed  every  day  to  become 
more  tender.  He  looked  forward  to  seeing  her  soon 
again,  this  was  the  source  of  his  strength  and  his 
consolation,  for  he,  too,  felt  that  his  physical  powers 
were  waning.  He  continued  to  write,  but  slowly 
and  with  difficulty  —  it  was  troublesome  to  him  to 
consult  authorities.  His  remaining  daughter  had  the 
sad  consolation  of  helping  him  in  his  task  He 
sometimes  said,  '  There  must  be  one  mind  in  two 
bodies  for  us  to  work  as  we  do.' 

The  rest,  the  garden  and  the  flowers  at  Val- 
Richer,  were  delightful  to  him.  It  was  a  fine 
summer,  and  he  spent  many  hours  sitting  in  the 
open  air,  well  sheltered  from  sun  and  wind,  his 
books  by  his  side,  dictating  or  conversing,  but  his 
appetite  absolutely  failed  and  he  walked  with  diffi- 
culty. His  interest  in  politics  was  increased  by  the 
appointment  of  his  son-in-law,  M.  Comelis  de  Witt, 
to  be  Under-Secretary  of  the  Minister  of  the  Interior. 
Every  visit  from  the  children  who  lived  away  from 

23 


354  MONSIEUR  GUIZOT  IN  PRIVATE  LIFE. 

him  was  a  deeply -felt  pleasure  and  an  amusement  to 
him.  They  all  anxiously  treasured  up  every  proof 
of  the  love  which  they  saw  passing  away  as  rapidly 
as  a  stream  runs  through  the  fingers  that  try  to  hold 
it  fast. 

M.  Guizot  had  written  the  last  lines  of  the  fourth 
volume  of  his  history,  when  he  yielded  to  his  increas- 
ing weakness  and  took  to  his  bed,  never  to  leave  it 
again.  He  had  been  glad  to  see  M.  and  Madame 
CuvilUer  Fleury,  with  whom  he  had  long  been  inti- 
mate. '  Welcome,  friends,'  he  said  to  them,  when 
they  ai-rived  at  Val-Richer,  '  for  you  are  real  friends.' 
They  were  the  last  who  saw  him  out  of  bed. 

He  never  lost  his  thoughtfulness  for  all  wliom  he 
loved  He  felt  the  hand  of  death,  and  already  spoke 
with  difficulty  when  he  said  to  his  daughter  (alluding 
to  liis  approaching  dissolution),  '  You  will  write  your- 
self to  Madame  Mollien.'  Tliis  faithful  friend  with 
whom  he  had  been  intimate  for  many  years  was, 
although  older  than  himself,  destined  to  survive 
him. 

All  his  children  were  present,  they  had  hastened 
to  come  to  liim.  Madame  Gaillard  de  Witt  was  there 
also,  with  her  eldest  daughter,  M.  Guizot's  godchild, 
who  afterwards  married  his  grandson,  Robert  de  Witt. 
His  physician.  Dr.  Behier,  always  faithful  to  the 
memory  of  M.  Guizot's  darling  son,  watched  with  a 
skill  that  was  sharpened  by  his  filial  affection  every 
step  of  the  downward  progress  against  which  he  was 
eagerly  fighting.  All  was  in  vain,  age  and  weariness 
gained  the  day  without  any  malady  declaring  itself 


HIS    LAST    ILLNESS    AND    DEATH.  355 

or  any  organ  being  attacked.    M.  Guizot  spoke  little, 
and  seemed  absorbed  in  liis  reflections.     He  often 
evoked  the  memory  of  those  he  had  lost,  and,  as  time 
disappeared  in  the  presence  of  eternity,  he  spoke  of 
the  son  of  whom  he  had  been  bereaved  thirty-seven 
years  previously  in  the  same  way  as  of  the  daughter 
who  had  preceded  him  to  her  eternal  rest  by  only  six 
months.     Moi'e  than  once  when  his  children  were  all 
collected  round  his  bed  in  his  little  room,  he  pro- 
nounced the  name  of  France  —  that  dear  country 
whose  disasters  had  struck  the  first  fatal  blow  to  his 
robust  old  age.     '  We  must  serve  France,  it  is  a  difii- 
cult  country  to  serve  —  short-sighted  and  fickle  — 
but  we  must  serve  it  well,   it  is  a  great  country.' 
Then,  as  if  returning  to  the  taste  for  jjoetry,  which 
had  been  so  strong  in  his  youth,  and  which  he  had 
never  wholly  lost,  he  would  repeat  in  a  low  tone  some 
lines  from  Corneille,  or  Rousseau's  Ode  to  Fortune, 
searching  and  finding  in  his  memory  the  words  which 
had  so  long  been  buried  under  the  impressions  of 
years.     He  wanted  to  hear  read  some  passages  from 
his  History  of  France ;  he  desired  one  of  his  grand- 
daughters, who  was  watching  by  him,  to  look  in  the 
third  volume  for  the  portrait  of  Coligny,  which  he 
wished  to  see  again.     His  daughter  was  kneeling  by 
the  side  of  the  bed  to  which  he  had  already  been 
confined  for  five  or  six  days,  forced  against  his  will  to 
accept  all  the  little  services  which  each  one  eagerly 
offered — liis  tastes  and  wishes  were  still  for  indepen- 
dence, although  his  strength  no  longer  permitted  him 
to  follow  them.     The  look  he  gave  his  daughter  was 


356  MONSIEUR   GUIZOT    IN    PRIVATE   LIFE. 

almost  enough  to  deceive  her  as  to  their  approaching 
separation  —  it  was  still  so  penetrating  and  so  tender 
—  '  Good-bye,  my  child,  good-bye ! '  he  repeated. 
The  hearts  of  all  present  were  sustained  by  one 
hope.  '  We  shall  meet  again,  my  father,'  she  ex- 
claimed. M.  Guizot,  whose  weakness  had  been  so 
great  a  few  moments  before,  raised  himself  on  his 
pillows,  his  eyes  shone  brightly,  and  his  voice  seemed 
to  have  regained  its  strength  as  he  replied,  '  No  one 
is  more  convinced  of  that  than  I  am  ! '  His  accent 
still  echoes  in  the  hearts  of  those  who  heard  him. 
His  words  became  fewer  and  fewer. 

One  after  the  other,  and  at  long  intervals,  M. 
Guizot  had  added  new  codicils  to  his  will  in  affec- 
tionate remembrance  of  many  whom  he  might  have 
forgotten ;  he  had  ordered  his  funeral,  forbidding  all 
invitations  and  speeches.  '  God  alone  should  speak 
by  the  side  of  the  grave,'  he  said. 

Presently  the  silence  of  death  set  in.  He  had  not 
opened  his  eyes  or  spoken  for  many  hours,  his  son 
and  daughters  were  at  his  side,  when  suddenly  the 
dying  eyes  opened  more  beautiful,  more  piercing  than 
ever,  with  a  far-off  glance  of  strange  clearness  as  if 
they  already  perceived  the  beloved  beings  who  were 
waiting  on  the  opposite  shore.  While  his  children 
were  watching  this  glance  his  soul  had  already 
entered  into  eternity. 

A  few  days  previously,  as  M.  Guizot  was  sitting 
in  his  armchair  by  the  side  of  his  desk,  overpowered 
by  mortal  weakness,  he  said  to  his  daughter,  '  Ah, 
my  child,  how  little  do  we  know  ! '     Then,  suddenly 


HIS    LAST   ILLNESS    AND    DEATH.  357 

lifting  up  his  hands,  '  However,  I  sliall  soon  enter 
into  the  Ught ! ' 

He  had  now  entered  into  the  light.  The  per- 
fection to  which  he  had  so  long  aspired  at  length 
was  his. 


INDEX. 


A. 

Aberdeen,  Lord,  23S;  his  ministry  fell 
through,  239 ;  faints  at  hearing  report 
of  Guizot*s  arrest,  240;  Guizot  visits 
him,  309 ;  his  kind  attentions,  312 ;  num- 
ber of  his  farmers  and  servants  some 
thousands,  313;  death,  314;  Guizot's 
high  opinion  of,  314;  one  of  Guizot's 
dearest  friends,  333. 

Academy,  Committee  of  the,  303. 

Action  a  greater  pleasure  than  conver- 
sation, 33. 

Action,  necessity  for,  141 ;  the  mission 
of  Guizot,  209. 

Active  life  the  best  regimen  to  preserve 
the  balance  of  our  minds,  59. 

Adam  and  Eve  should  not  have  been 
entirely  separated,  69. 

Affection,  value  of,  33. 

-iftections  increase  with  age,  244;  the 
true  source  of  happiness,  245;  real 
happiness  in  true  affection  does  not 
consist  in  words,  262. 

Alexandria,  good  news  from,  233. 

Ambition  one  of  the  best  of  youthful 
passions,  288. 

Amnesty,  Act  of,  26.5. 

Anxietv,  an  incurable,  about  those  dear 
to  him,  267. 

Aquitaine,  bibliographv  of,  10.5. 

Argyll,  Duke  of,  the  fast  Scottish  laird 
who  could  muster  3000  or  4000  men, 
313. 

Aristocracy,  a  natural,  in  the  human  race, 
64. 

Ascot  races,  Guizot  wins  the  sweepstakes 
at  the,  217. 

Assignats  diminished  the  resources  of 
France,  9. 

Audiences  at  his  first  lectures,  how  com- 
posed, 72;  intellectual  elasticity  in,  73. 

Auditories,  the,  at  Geneva,  8. 

Aunts  of  M.  Guizot  died  young,  7. 

Austin,  Mrs.,  letter  to,  265. 

Auteserve's,  Rerum  Aquitanicai-um  lilm 
decern^  105. 

AzvT,  Vicq  d',  family  phj'sician  of  Made- 
moiselle de  ileulan,  35. 


Barante,  M.  de,  removed  from  the  Con- 
seil  d'Etat,  55;  Guizot's  letter  to,  on 
the  death  of  Madame  Guizot,  88 ;  ITis- 
tory  of  the  Dulces  of  Burgundy,  105; 
Giiizot's  letter  to,  Sept.  21, 1829,  onPo- 
lignac's  mirastr_v,  106;  his  Parlement 
de  Paris,  108;  paper  on  history  of 
France,  144;  Guizot's  letter  to,  233; 
never  destroyed  any  of  Guizot's  letters, 
235 ;  letter  of  Guizot  to,  from  London, 
252;  one  of  Guizot's  intimate  conver- 
sational letters  to,  326;  pleased  with 
Guizot's  Meditations,  329;  death,  330  ; 
Guizot's  notice  of,  331. 

Barbe-.Marbois,  M.  de.  Minister  of  Justice, 
53. 

Barnet,  M.  de,  legacy  from,  to  Mile,  de 
Ifeulan,  40. 

Basques,  the,  a  remnant  of  the  Iberians, 
106. 

Bel-Air,  M.  Guizot  a  guest  at,  20. 

Berry,  Duo  de,  assassination  of,  55. 

Berryer,  M.  de,  110;  favors  legal  meas- 
ures, 120. 

Berlin,  Armand,  death  of,  296. 

"  Bibliotht^que  Royale,"  the  place  of  con- 
cealment of  the"  Guizot  family  during 
the  days  of  violence,  252. 

Bismarck,  Count,  Guizot's  opinion  of, 
327 ;  has  neither  good  sense  nor  hon- 
esty, but  character,  327. 

Blacas,  M.  de,  offensive  to  the  public,  53. 

Black  Sea,  the,  dangerous  in  January,  294. 

Boccaccio  and  Thucydides  did  not'e.xag- 
gerate  the  plague,  135. 

Boileau,  Sir  John,  Guizot's  visits  to,  308. 

Bois-Milet,  Guizot  leaves,  for  Paris,  70; 
desire  to  return  to,  78. 

Bonaparte  and  the  monarchy,  51. 

Bonicel,  M.  (Guizot's  grandfather), 
death  of,  80. 

Bonicel,  Sophie-Elisabeth  (Madame 
Guizot),  character,  1;  marriage  to 
Andri^-Fraucjois  Guizot,  2. 

Bossuet's  sermon  on  the  immortality  of 
the  soul,  88. 

Boufflers,  M.  de,  29. 


360 


INDEX. 


Bourdonnave,  M.  de  la,  his  reply,  106. 

Boyer,M., "Madame  Guizot's  surgeon,  87. 

Brave  people  often  wanting  in  prudence, 
188. 

British  Museum,  visit  to,  309. 

Broglie,  peaceful  days  at,  124;  M.  Guizot 
returns  to,  1*27. 

Broglie,  Due  de,  retires  from  the  Council, 
12-1;  loses  a  daughter  by  tlie  cholera, 
131 ;  declines  to  enter  a  cabinet  with- 
out M.  Guizot,  142 ,  Minister  of  Foreign 
Affairs,  142  ;  death,  332  ,  Guizot's 
friendship  for,  332. 

Broglie,  Duchesse  de,  death  of,  183. 


Cabinet  of  May  20th  resigns,  228. 
Calvin,      permanence     of     institutions 

founded  by,  8. 
Cambronne,  General,  dines  with  King  of 
England,  66 ;  his  single  remark  on  that 
occasion,  67. 
Camille,   Guizot  declaiming  the  impre- 
cations of,  9. 
Capital  Punishment/or  Political  Offences, 

Volume  on,  70. 
Capital   punishment,    crowd  demanding 

abolition  of,  190. 
Carrier  pigeons  at  Epsom  races,  203. 
Catholics,  flight  of,  from  England,  213. 
Cavour,  M.  de,  will  dethrone  the  King  of 

Naples,  320;  and  keep  quiet  in  Italy, 

321. 
Celtic  derivations  for  words  in  daily  use 

doubtful,  109. 
Censorship  of  academical  speeches,  280. 
Chabaud,  Ernest  de,  185. 
Chabrol,  M.  de,  hopes  for  a  majority,  108. 
Chamber,  prorogation  and  dissolution  of 

the,  111. 
Chambre  introuvable,  54. 
Champfort,  M.  de,  36. 
Cliapelle    d'Ayton,    La,    published    by 

Mademoiselle  de  Meulan,  39. 
Charles   X.,  hesitations  and  resolutions, 

120;  the  three  Ordonnances,  121;  fell 

forwant  of  judgment,  133. 
Charter  set  aside,  121. 
Chartists'  meeting  at  Kennington,  253. 
Chateaubriand,    M.   de,    resignation    of, 

expected,  107;  speech  of,  suppressed, 

280. 
Childhood  of  M.  Guizot,  1. 
Children  enabled  to  control  themselves, 

85;    need    the  open   air,   201;   should 

have  perfect    freedom   at    play,   202; 

"My  children  have  been  the  charm  of 

my  old  age,"  291 ;  Guizot's  continued 

fondness  for,  347. 
Child's  heart  and   mind,  treasures  in  a, 

84. 
Cholera  in  Paris,   128;    in   Normandy, 

131 ;  at  Bordeaux,  135. 
Christ,  divine  character  of,  17. 
Christian  Ignorance,  Meditation  on,  the 

most  original,  325. 


Christianity,  M.  Guizot's  belief  in.  16, 
20;  attempt,?  to  scientitically  explain 
the  supernatural  events  in,  vain  and 
false,  325. 
Classical  studies,  the  advantages  of,  and 
changes  necessary  in,  137. 

Colettis,  Geaeral,  imprisoned  in  the  gar- 
den, 231. 
Coligny,    Guizot    calls  for    his    picture 
during  his  last  hours,  355 

Coll^,  private  secretary  of  M.  de  Meulan, 
35. 

College  lite  intellectually  excellent,  137. 

Colmar,  70. 

Coiupii'gne,  M.  Guizot's  visit  to,  184. 

Compliment  and  abuse,  2G5. 

Condorcet,  M.  de,  36. 

Condorcet,  Madame  de,  lends  M.  Guizot 
a  house,  55. 

Conseil  d'Etat,  54. 

Conspiracies,  people  disgusted  with,  70. 

Conspiracies  and  Political  Justice,  pam- 
phlet on,  69. 

Constant,  M.  Benj.,  dull  and  exaggerated 
in  his  book  on  religion,  102. 

Constituante,  remnant  of  the  old  society 
of  the,  28. 

Constituent  Assembly,  the.  Wronged  by 
Montalembert,  282. 

Contract,  meaning  of  the  word,  108. 

Contradictions  published  bj'  Mademoi- 
selle de  Meulan,  39. 

Contradictions,  the  infinite,  in  our  nature 
proofs  of  immortalit}",  306. 

Convention,  meaning  of  the  word,  108. 

Conversation  in  the  salons,  30-32;  is  a 
great  pleasure,  33. 

Corbiires  on  the  acquittal  of  prisoners, 
70. 

Cornet,  Senator,  "that  old  humbug," 
57. 

Coterie,  the  spirit  of,  opposed  to  good 
government,  167. 

Country,  a  great,  ought  to  be  both  pros- 
perous and  splendid,  350. 

Coup  d'etat  of  Dec.  2,  1851,  280. 

Coups  d'etat  imminent,  120. 

Cousin,  51.,  permitted  to  resume  his 
lectures,  93. 

Crisis  between  France  and  England,  226. 

Cromwell  would  have  overthro^vn  the 
French  Republic,  275. 

Cromwell,  paper  on,  read  to  the  Academy 
by  Guizot,  295;  Guizot's  interest  in, 
295. 

Crystal  Palace  at  Sydenham,  298. 

Cuvier,  M.,  death  o'f,  by  the  cholera,  130. 

D. 

Daunant,  M.  Achille  de,  fellow-sttident 
and  friend  of  M.  Guizot,  12. 

Death  —  we  forget  how  near  he  is,  296. 

Deaths,  we  pass  our  lives  between  ex- 
pected and  unexpected,  326. 

Decazes,  M.,  and  the  Ultras,  54;  fall  of 
his  Ministrv,  55. 


INDEX. 


361 


Degradation  of  man,  strongest  proof  of 
the,  17. 

Delessert,  M.,  Prefect  of  Police,  171. 

Di-sert,  meaning  in  the  language  of 
the  Port-Koyalists,  1. 

Destiny,  our,  consists  of  two  parts,  287. 

Dictiunary  of  Synonyms  begun,  24. 

Diderot,  27.     , 

Dillon,  Mile.  Elisa,  with  Madame  Guizot, 
60;  left  in  care  of  a  sister  and  brother, 
comes  to  live  in  Paris,  81;  her  pleasure 
in  writing,  81;  goes  to  Plombiercs, 
88;  favorite  niece  of  Madame  Guizot, 
95 ;  return  to  Paris,  95 ;  her  rare  cul- 
ture, intelligence,  and  energy,  97 ; 
ideas  of  marriage,  98;  devotion  to  her 
father,  99;  happiness  in  her  marriage 
to  M.  Guizot,  100. 

Dillon,  M.  Jacques.  40. 

Dillon,  Pauline,  visits  her  aunt,  Mad.anie 
Guizot,  60;  letters  to,  from  her  sisier, 
88,  111,  124,  145 ;  marries  M.  D(?court, 
128 ;  birth  of  a  son  and  death,  152. 

Dinner  at  the  Lord  Mayor's,  198. 

Dinner-parties  in  London,  198. 

Dinners,  "second  campaign"  of,  not 
pleasant  to  Guizot,  285. 

Dino,  Duchess  de,  33. 

Disorder,  political  and  intellectual.  143. 

Dittany,  M.  Guizot's  favorite  flower,  2IJ5. 

Divine"^  intervention,  Guizot's  conviction 
of  the,  115. 

Doctrinaires,  their  influence,  55. 

Doctrine  Chreticnne,  55- 

Droit,  meaning  of  the,  69. 

Dubois,  the  surgeon,  57. 

Duch.itel,  M.,  head  of  a  cabinet,  186. 

l>u  Marca,  History  of  Beam,  105. 

Dumon,  M.,  Guizot's  letter  to,  on  Aqni- 
tainc,  104;  success  at  the  Tuileries, 
315. 


Eastern  question  and  its  complications, 
193,  222;  what  has  France  to  do  with 
it,  294. 

Edinburgh,  Guizot  at,  310;  peculiar  as 
it  is  beautiful,  and  as  beautiful  as  it 
is  peculiar,  312. 

Education  of  M.  Guizot's  sons,  10 ;  few 
resources  for,  in  France,  8;  value  of 
Madame  Guizot's  Family  Letters  on, 
84;  consists  in  enabling  children  to 
control  themselves  by  means  of  their 
own  free  will,  85 ;  supplies  strength 
fur  the  good,  and  happiness  for  the 
evil  days,  268 ;  Law  of  Public,  285. 

Electors,  ignorance  of.  127:  frightened.  265. 

Emperor,  M.  Guizot  refuses  to  extol  the, 
46. 

Empires  have  no  critical  days  or  years, 
66. 

Energetic  people  often  wanting  in  gentle- 
ness, 188. 

English  nation,  qualities  of  the,  220. 

Epsom  races,  203. 


Essay  on  the  flistory  ami  Present  Condi- 
tion of  Public  £ducution  in  France, 
54.  .      , 

Essays  on  the  History  of  France  in  the 
Fifth  Century,  83. 

Eu,  keceptiou  at,  235. 


Faith  in  men,  63;  in  the  future  of 
France,  266;  the  ackimwkdgment  of 
the  truth  without  seeking  to  explain 
it,  325. 

Family  Letters  on  Education  begun  by 
Madame  Guizot,  83. 

Family  rejoicings  followed  by  patriotic 
anxieties,  335;  union  the  source  of 
happiness  and  strength,  '2111. 

Favours,  greatest  of  all,  the  knowing  and 
pos.sessing  more  than  one  of  God's 
noblest  creatures,  335. 

Feelings,  deep,  never  effaced,  279  ;  oppo- 
site feelings  dwelling  together  in  the 
heart,  305. 

Flowers,  Guizot's  fondness  for,  205. 

Fontainebleau,  M.  Guizot  at,  185. 

Fontanes,  M.  de.  creates  chair  of  Modern 
History  for  M.  Guizot,  46. 

France,  love  for.  '223;  "always"  called 
to  a  lofty  destiny,  234 ;  proves  she  is 
still  alive,  '263;  disasters  brought  upon, 
by  personal  rule,  334;  is  a  soldier, 
337 ;  in  an  acute  crisis,  338 ;  effort 
to  restore  her  by  Guizot,  344;  dear 
to  him  in  his  last  hours,  355. 

Franco-Prussian  war,  outbreak  of,  335; 
lamentable  termination,  342. 

Free  goycrnment,  foundation  of,  266. 

French,  the,  like  parade  not  barracks, 
337. 

French  civilization,  development  of,  72. 

French  Protestant  Church,  effort  to  re- 
establish ancient  discipline  in,  345. 

French  Protest.ints,  2. 

French  society,  the  old,  71;  efforts  to 
emerge  from  chaos,  72. 

Friends,  death  of,  wearisome,  iii. 

Friends  in  England,  265. 

Fnentls  in  Misfortune,  essay  by  Made- 
moiselle de  Meulan,  37. 

Friendship,  infinite  reserves  in  the 
closest,  131. 

Funds,  question  of  conversion  of  the, 
decides  the  fall  of  the  Ministry,  162. 

Fusion,  the,  talked  about,  293. 

Future,  we  must  learn  to  live  in  the, 
155;  wisely  clouded  from  us,  157. 


Gaelic   deriv.itions   for  words    in    daily 

use  doubtful,  109. 
Gallois,  HL,  29. 
Gauche,  meaning  of  the,  60. 
Gazza  Ladra,  JL  Guizot  visits,  67. 
Gemahl  —  a  marriage  coutracl,  109. 


562 


INDEX. 


Geneva,  Matlame  Giiizot  at,  8. 

Geneva,  Lake  of,  excursiuns  round  tlie, 
10. 

Geraniums  in  England,  205. 

Ghent,  M.  Guizot  at,  4-U. 

Gil)l)ou,  M.  Guizot  prepares  notes  to, 
2-i. 

Giech,  Countess  von,  daughter  of  Baron 
Stein,  272. 

God  governs  the  universe,  18. 

God's  help  needed  by  man,  212. 

Goad  foitunc  is  hazardous,  delicate, 
fragile.  U4. 

Gospil.  the,  distorted  and  belied  by  the 
Catholic  Church  and  the  Prote;;iauts, 
282. 

Gut'sip,  none  worse  than  that  relating  to 
politics,  76. 

Government,  the,  and  the  Opposition, 
IVi. 

Government  of  France  since  the  Kestora- 
tion,  and  the  Present  Ministry,  55. 

Grandchildren,  Guizot's  interest  in  his, 
293;  he  writes  fondly  oftlieir  life  and 
talli,  302;  wins  their  contidence,  300; 
multiply  around  him,  33-t. 

Grand-daug'  ters,  Guizot's  delight  at 
birth  i.f.  276. 

Grave,  God  alone  should  speak  by  the 
side  of  the,  356- 

Greece  and  Rome  the  good  society  of 
the  human  mind,  137- 

Grtujnry  of  Toiirs^  Madame  Guizot's 
t]"anslatiun  of,  83. 

Grief,  permanency  of,  279. 

Guizard,  M.  de  and  the  Revue  JDra- 
■matique.  111). 

Guizot,  Andre-Francois,  marriage,  2; 
ai'rest  and  death,  3;  last  letter  to  his 
wife,  4. 

Guizot.  Francois,  his  birth  expected,  49 ; 
in  the  country  with  his  mother,  5(J :  her 
estimate  of  him,  59;  character  of,  91; 
behavior  to  his  step-mother  Elisa,  99; 
successful  in  his  examinations,  110; 
obtains  a  nomination  and  leaves  col- 
lege, 136;  gives  up  his  vacation,  14(^; 
growing  into  manhood,  159;  twenty- 
first  birthday,  165;  fine  tact  and 
upright  judgment,  169 ;  catches  cold, 
pleurisv  and  death,  175;  his  father's 
affection  for  him,  225,  2G7. 

Guizot,  Franf^^ois-Pierre-Guillaiime,  birth 
of,  1;  never  legally  registered,  2; 
farewell  to  his  father.  4;  his  education, 
10;  a  skilful  joiner,  10;  absorption 
in  his  work,  11;  awakened  to  sense 
of  his  powers,  11;  begins  law  studies 
at  Paris,  12;  taste  for  literature  and 
politics,  12,  21;  melancholy  tempera- 
ment and  determined  will,  12;  religious 
opinions,  13;  obstinacy,  13;  inflexi- 
bility of  his  early  youth,  15;  faith  in 
Christ,  16,  17;  declaration  of  religious 
belief  in  his  will,  18;  literary  and 
social  occupations,  20;  translates 
Trnrels  in  ^/irrm,  23:  consoles  his 
mother,  25;  sphere  of  life  widens,  26; 


tour  in  Languedoc,  41;  engagement 
with  Mile,  de  Meulan,  41;  corre- 
spondence with  same,  42;  her  advice 
to  him,  42;  marriage,  41,  46;  Pro- 
fessor of  Literature,  40;  of  Modern 
History,  40;  complete  freedom  in 
work,  47;  enters  political  life,  48 ;  at 
Ghent,  49 ;  Secretaire  G^n(:Tal,  53 ; 
Maitre  des  Requetes,  54;  Conseiller 
d'Etat,  54;  removed  from  ofiice,  55, 
literary  occupations,  61 ;  under  the 
banner  of  the  Opposition,  69;  correct- 
ing proofs,  70;  studying  fur  kctures, 
71;  a  Liberal  and  anti-revolutionary, 
73^  renounces  all  party  contentions, 
75;  fond  of  human  nature,  79;  do- 
mestic happiness,  80;  began  to  pub- 
lish his  Afevioirs  of  Ancitnt  Hl&tory 
of  France,  83;  prepares  Essays  on  the 
History  of  France  in  the  Fifth  Cen- 
tury, 83;  careful  preparation  of  ma- 
terials for  History  of  the  En<jlish 
lit  volution,  83:  letter  to  M.  de  Barante 
on  the  death  of  Madame  Guizot,  88; 
his  grief  and  its  remedy,  90;  neces- 
sity fur  work,  91;  opinion  of  his  son, 
91;  publishes  two  volumes  oi  History 
of  the  English  Revolution,  92;  edits 
the  Revue  Franqnise^  92;  made  Con- 
seiller d'Etat,  and  resumes  his  lectures 
after  seven  years'  interruption,  93; 
cherishes  memories  of  the  past,  96; 
marries  Mile.  £lisa  Dillon,  100  ;  study- 
ing, writing,  and  rb^^erving  the  state 
of  public  mind  under  the  ministry  of 
M.  lie  Polignac,  103;  letter  to' M. 
de  Barante  on  politics  and  philology, 
108;  elected  to  the  Chamber  by  the 
atvvndissements  oi  Pont  PEveque  and 
Lisieux,  110;  maiden  speech,  110;  goes 
to  Nimes;  111;  letter  to  wife  on  poli- 
tics, 113;  his  faith  in  Providence,  115; 
return  to  Paris,  121 ;  Ministere  de 
VJnterieur,V2Z;  retires  from  the  Coun- 
cil, 124;  sees  the  sea  for  the  first  time 
at  Honfleur.  125;  its  effect,  126;  again 
in  Paris,  127;  attacked  by  the  cholera, 
129;  recovers  working  power,  132;  on 
the  riots  of  June,  1832,  132;  tloctri- 
nairv,  134;  distrusts  Michelet's  his- 
torical method,  140;  Minister  of  Public 
Education,  143;  arduous  duties,  146; 
grief  at  his  wife's  death,  148;  letters 
to  Madame  Dt/court,  147,  150;  letter  to 
Madame  de  Broglie,  153;  ardently  en- 
gaged in  political  contests,  159;  takes 
his  son  to  Normandy,  160 ;  opinion  of 
political  calumnies,  161 ;  out  of  the  Cabi- 
net, 162;  distributes  prizes  at  College 
of  Lisieux,  165;  on  forming  a  ministry, 
167;  again  takes  the  portfolio  of  PuD- 
lic  Instruction,  169;  opp"sition  in  the 
Chambers,  176;  resigns  from  Cabinet 
atrain,  176  ;  love  for  liis  son  Francois, 
178;  joins  the  Left.  181;  three  days 
at  Fontainebleau,  183;  his  opinion  of 
the  Duchess  of  Orleans,  184:  letters 
to  Henriette  on  punctuation,  187  ;  in- 


INDEX. 


363 


terest    in  his  cliililren,  191:    ambas- 
sador   to   Court  of    St.   James,    I'M: 
letter  to   his    mother  on   tlie  care  of 
his  thildreii,  rj4;  speech  in  English  at 
the  Lord  Mayor's  dmner,   20(1;  inter- 
est  in  Val-Ri'clier,  201;  dinner  to  Uuc 
and  Ducliesse  de  Nemours,  205 ;  letter 
to  Aline,  20G;  letter  to  his  mother,  20'J; 
his  children's   love   for  him,  211;   let- 
ter to    Henriette,    212;    life    in    Eng- 
land,   213;    letter    to     Pauhne,    21B; 
opens   the  Queen's   chamber    door  at 
Windsor,    218;    touched    by    the    af- 
fection  of  the   English    people,    221; 
visits  his  mother  and  children  at  Trou- 
ville,  223;  return  to  France,  224;  wants 
nothing  in  London  or  Paris,   227 ;  en- 
trusted to  form    a  cabinet,    228 ;    ac- 
cepts the   Foreign    Office,  229;    result 
of    ministerial   efforts,   233;    letter  to 
children     from    Chateau    d'Eu,    23(i; 
others,  241,  244;  life  lonely,  244;  im- 
peached and  exiled,   249  ;    escape   and 
arrival  in  London,  250;  takes  a  house 
at  Brompton,  253;  returns  to  literary 
work,  254;  on  his  motlier's  death,  257  ; 
sad     thoughts,    calm    fortitude,    and 
unconquerable    optimism,    261;   devo- 
tion to  his    country,   202;  announces 
himself  publiclv  as  a  Liberal  (Jonserva- 
tive,  264:  return  from  exile,  265;  mar- 
ries  his  daughters  to  his  satisfaction, 
269;  orders  his  children  to  wear  mourn- 
ing for  the  King.  273  ;  letter  on  poli- 
tics, 277;  order  of  daily  life,  278;  gave 
up    public   life   after   the   oiup-d'ijtiit, 
284 ;  anxietv    for  his  dauglUers,  289  ; 
dines  at  the"  Rothschilds',  292;  seldom 
leaves    home,  297;   visits   England  in 
August,  1855,  298;  in  Paris  during  the 
winter,  299;   visits  England  with   his 
son,   308;  interest  in   his    son's  mar- 
riage, 316;  return  to  native  town    to 
son's  wedding,  316;   his    Paris    house 
demolished,     317;    in    1804     writing 
seventh  volume   of  Memoirs,  327:   in 
these  speaks  of  nothing  but  himself, 
329;  his  optimism  fails  him,  330  ;  falls 
ill,   337 ;   will-power  restores    him   to 
health,  338;  letters  to  English  friends, 
341;    keeps  on   writing,   343;  attends 
the  Svnod  at  Paris,  345 ;  again  at  Val- 
Richer,  347  ;  assisted  by  eldest  daugh- 
ter, 353;   finished   the 'fourth  volume 
of   his  History,  and  takes  to  his  bed, 
354 ;  age  and  weariness  overcome  him, 
354;   his  last   hours,  355;  death,  356; 
no  speeches  at  his  funeral,  356. 
Guizot,  Guillaume,  birth  of,  146;  infancy, 
151;  a  sweet  and  gentle  child,  155;  let- 
ters   from  father  to.  203,  218;  t;ikes  a 
book  to  bed  to  read  in  morning.  231 ; 
writes  a  Greek  essay,  247;  studies  with 
his  father,  259:  again  at  college,  268; 
interested  in  new  studies,  277 ;   gains 
half  the  prize   for  essay  on  '^Menan- 
der,"  291  n. ;  translation  of  flamlet,  and 
notes,    pronounced    excellent  by   his 


father,  316:  engagement  and  marriage 
to    Uabrielle   de    Haux.    310;    he   re- 
mains in  Paris  during  the  siege,  339; 
his  wife  at   Val-Kicher,  339. 
Guizot,   Henrielte,  birth  of,  110;  educa- 
tion, 117:  enjoys  life  in  the  country, 
125;    eiglit    ye;irs  old   when    Franvuis 
died,  176;  her  father  criticises  the  lack 
of  punctuation  in  her  letters,  187:  dis- 
appointment at  not  gohig  to  England, 
1!)7:    books  for  her  to  read,  202,  221; 
her  character  resembles  her  nioiher's, 
223;  father  urges   her  lo  hive  France, 
223;  father's  blessing  on,  270. 
Guizot,  Madame  (motlier  of  M.  Guizot), 
death  of,  4;  sorrow  for  her  husband.  5; 
birthday  letter  to  her  son,  5;  author- 
ity over  her  children,  7 ;  devotion  of, 
7;  power  of  command,   8;  her   small 
fortune,  9;  society  and  music  painful 
toiler,  10;  return"  to  Nimes,  11:  grief 
for  her  husband,  25;  with  her  parents, 
61;  lived  three  lives,  119;  assumes  the 
education  of  her  grandchildren  at  their 
mother's    death,    158;    at  Val-Richer 
with  the  children,   187;  enjoys  living 
there.  210;  taste  for  information   and 
scientitic  reading,  211  ;   with  the  chil- 
dren at  Trouville,  220;  her  son's  affec- 
tion for  her,  224;  again  in  Paris,  229; 
obliged  to  remain  in    Paris,  251;  her 
strength  of  will,  252;  death  at  Bromp- 
ton, 256 ;  her  moral  courage  and  ten- 
derness    inexhaustible,     256;    buried 
at  Kensal  Green,   259;  inscription  ou 
tombstone,  260. 
Guizot,    Madame    Elisa    (Dillon),    true 
happiness    of,    100;    religious    views, 
100;   assists   her  husband   in  liter,ary 
work.  103;  birth  of  daugliter,  110;  rtrst 
separation    from    her    husband.    111; 
article  on  Uhland's  poetry,   112  ;  f/ls- 
lonj    of  Friince  for    C'liiUlren,     112; 
letter  to  husband,  117;  plans  to  read 
and    review   Fleury's   and   Xeander's 
Church    Histories.  "118;    corrects   first 
proofs  of    Une   Fnmille,  118;  dislikes 
the  noise  of  political  life,  124:   birth 
of    second  daughter,   128;    works  for 
the    cholera-stricken  poor,  128;  gives 
birth    to    a    son,    146;    delirium   and 
death,  147. 
Guizot,   Madame    Pauline   (M.  Guizot'a 
tir-t  wife),  her  marriage,  41 ;  at  Nimes, 
48;  lost  her  first  child.  49;  expectinif 
her  second,  49;   in  the   country  with 
her  son   Frani;'ois,  66;  letter  to  her  hus- 
band. 58;  her  health  affected,   60;  re- 
vises Letoimenr's  translation  of  Shake- 
speare, 61;  her  novel    L'Ecolier.   61; 
left   in   countrs-  near  Montargi-.   61; 
letters  to  her 'husband,    62:   publica- 
tion of  her  novel,  66;   her  watchful- 
ness,  09;    writes   another  volume    of 
stories.    75:   planning  works    on    the 
Ancient   Histiiry   of    France   and   the 
Revolution    in    England.  75:    anxious 
for  the  future,  76;   her  translation  of 


364 


IJfDEX. 


Gregory  of  Tmtrs  a  masterpiece,  83: 
eilittd  Menutirs  relatiili;  tu  the  History 
of  the  English  Kevolutiun,  8ti;  pub- 
lished Ntw  Tales,  83;  betran  Fniiiilj 
Letters  (yn  Education,  33;  published  in 
182C,  85;  seriously  ill,  85;  affection  for 
her  husband,  87 :  removed  to  Ploui- 
bieres,  88;  return  to  Paris,  88;  death, 
88;  one  of  tite  noblest  beings,  90; 
wish  for  her  liusband's  happiness,  95. 

Guizot,  Piiuline  (second  daughter),  ill, 
194;  her  portrait  received  by  her 
fatiier  in  London.  197 ;  letter  from 
father,  232:  life  full  of  happiness, 
232;  taking  refuge  in  London,  248; 
her  story  of  the  exile,  259;  marries 
Cornells  De  Witt,  299;  weak  and  out 
of  health  after  birth  of  her  second 
child,  292;  iniprovnig,  390;  travelling 
in  Brittany,  3U1 ;  '*  my  heart  has  not 
been  at  ease  for  five  months,"  342; 
often  ill  during  1871,  343;  attacked  by 
pleurisy,  350;  death,  353. 

Gymnasium  (the)  at  Geneva,  8. 


H. 

Haddo,  Guizot   spends    a    fortnight  at, 

312;  description  of  the  park  at,  313. 
Happiness,  Guizot's  lost,  299. 
Happiness  itself  would  be  suffering  if  it 

were  onlv  a  jjastinie,  82;  nothing  at  all 

like  it,  181. 
Hat  and   table  turning  at  Rothschild's, 

292. 
Heath    family   a    favorite    flower   with 

Guizot,  205. 
Henin,  Princesse  de,  the  salon  of,  28. 
Herbet,  M.  Guizot  at  grave  of,  iii. 
History,  how  to  read,  221. 
History,  long  alternately  a  comedy  and 

a    tragedv,    becoming  a   melodrama, 

320. 
*'  History    of   Cirtlization    in    France,^^ 

material  neeiled  for.  255. 
^^  History  of  France  as  told  to  my  Chil- 
dren,'' begun  at  Val-Kicher  in    1839, 

255;  first  volume  published,  344;  third 

volume  nearly  finished,  359. 
History  of  the  Origin  of  Representative 

Government,  lectures  on,  71. 
"  History    of  the    Enr/lish    Rerolution,'' 

materials  for,  carefully  prepared,  83; 

resumed    work    on    in    London,    254: 

work    on,    at    Val-Richer,    299 ;    last 

volume  finished,  295. 
Home  life  at  Val-Kicher  full  of  delights. 

319. 
Homme  de  lettres  et  pf're  de  famille,  vi. 
Honfleur,  M.  Guizot  at.  by  the  sea,  124. 
Honor,  I  set  vitlue  on  being  remembered 

with,  .3-37. 
Hondetot,  Madame,  the  salon  of,  26;, her 

dinners.  29;  as  a  listener,  30. 
House  of  Commons,  213. 
Human   life  full  of  inconsistencies   and 

contradictions,  350., 


Humboldt's  work  on  the  Basqnes,  lOG. 
IJume-s  History  of  England  to  be  read 

ni  eonnectiuu  with  Lingard's,  221. 
Hundred  Days,  the,  49. 


Ills,  we  sicken  of,  which  can  be  cured,  G6; 
those  we  now  endure  must  not  make 
us  forget  those  from  which  we  have 
been  delivered,  283. 

Innigiuation  of  man  falls  far  short  of  the 
reality.  135. 

Impartial  judgment  of  contemporary 
events  easy  to  Guizot,  284. 

Impartiality 'of  Guizot  shocks  his  friends, 
284. 

Imperial  government,  attempt  to  liberal- 
ise, 334. 

Im  pulses,  first,  not  always  to  be  followed, 
219. 

Indecision  and  impotence  the  character- 
istics of  the  men  of  the  present  day, 
329. 

Infancy,  mystery  of  the  destiny  of  those 
who  die  in,  279. 

Infinitv  —  infinite  happiness  —  infinite 
love;  154. 

lnsr.rrecti(.in,  revolutionarv,  of  July, 
18.30,  121. 

Irelaiul,  interest  in,  213. 

Irish  elections,  debate  on,  in  House  of 
Commons,  213. 


Jacobins,  Reign  of  Terror  in  hands  of,  3. 

Jardin  de  I'ttoile,  194. 

Jordan,  Camille,  removed  from  the  Con- 
seil  d'Etat,  55. 

Jovs  and  sorrows  blended  permanently, 
279. 

Justice,  if  tardy,  only  the  more  conspic- 
uous, 281. 


K. 


Kings,  divine  right  of.  71. 
Kotzebue's  Ancient  History  q, 
articles  on,  24. 


■y  of  Prussia, 


L. 

Labbey,  M.,  Guizot's  esteem  for,  208. 

La  Cliatre,  M.  dc,  on  white  uniforms,  66. 

Lafitte,  President  of  the  Council,  124. 

I.aine,  M.,  and  the  electoral  law,  54. 

Umilliere.  M.  de,  36;  life  saved,  38. 

Languedoc,  History  of,  by  the  Benedic- 
tines, 105. 

Latour,  Jllle.  Rosine  de  Chabaud,  159. 

Laws  of  society,  action  of  on  the  lower 
classes,  63. 


INDEX. 


365 


I.e  Breton,  M.,  24. 

Lectures,  first  course  closed  by  the  Cabi- 
net in  October,  18*22,  75 ;  resumed  after 
seven  years'  interruption,  i)3;  on  Ci\'il- 
ization  in  France  and  in  liurope,  94. 

Left,  Left-Centre,  and  Extreme  Left,  61)  n. 

Legrand,  M.,  resignation  of,  207. 

Le  Long,  Pcre,  BlbUvthique  Uistorique 
de  la  France,  105. 

Lenorniant,  M.  and  Madame,  Guizot's 
affection  for  them.  249 ;  Lenoi-niant 
offers  literary  assistance,  254;  Guizot's 
letter  to  Madame,  257. 

Letters  a  pleasure  even  when  they  con- 
tain only  sad  tidings,  340. 

Liberty  is  the  power  of  choosing  the 
righ"t,  212. 

Lieven,  Princess,  death  of,  a  heavy  sor- 
row to  Giiizot,  302  ;  her  character,  303. 

Life  full  of  contrasts,  of  good  and  evil, 
210. 

Life,  a,  of  complete  independence  but 
active!/  employed,  Guizot's  choice, 
280. 

Light,  amount  of  in  the  South,  288. 

"Light,  I  shall  soon  enter  into  the," 
357. 

Lingard's  History  of  England  to  be  read 
in  connection  with  Hume's,  221. 

Literature,  M.  Guizot's  preference  for, 
12,  21. 

Literature  only  a  pale  reflection  of  life, 
135. 

Louis-Philippe,  accession  of,  123;  won 
his  crown  on  the  6th  of  .June,  1832, 133; 
forms  the  Ministry  of  October  11,  142 : 
opposes  Thiers's  policy,  169 ;  death  2G 
August,  272;  Guizot's  opinion  of  his 
government,  273 ;  on  anniversary  of  his 
death  Guizot  visits  England,  298. 

Louis  XVIII.,  M.  Guizot's  mission  to, 
49;  returned  to  France,  53,  dissolves 
the  Chamber,  54. 

Love  will  abide  forever,  81;  true  love 
very  uncommon,  180;  always  greater 
than  its  object  has  an  idea  of,  226. 

"Loving  Cup,"  the,  109. 

I/)yalty  to  government  in  England,  253. 

M. 

Macaulay,  Hallam,  Aberdeen,  three  men 

of  rare  merit,  314. 
Mahl,  derivation  of  the  word,  109. 
Mahlzeit,  meal-lime,  109, 
Malesherbes,  M.  de,  2. 
Malhmi,  mahl,  meaning  of  this  ancient 

German  word,  108. 
Man  if  stationary  becomes  dull.  78. 
Manner  of  M.  Guizot  towards  visitors,  v. 
Man's  opinion,  value  set  upon,  82. 
"Mansions,    in  my   Father's  house  are 

manv,"  281. 
Maradan,  RI.,  24. 
Marie  Amolie,  Queen,  death  of,  at  Clare- 

mont,   England,   328;    Guizot  attends 

her  funeral,  329. 


Martignac,  M.  de,  forms  a  cabinet,  92; 
the  King's  bitterness  towards,  108. 

Means  of  Government,  and  Opposition  in 
the  present  state  of  France,  pamphlet 
on,  61. 

Meaux,  two  regiments  quarrel  at,  49. 

Mtditatio7is  on  the  Christian  Rtliyion^ 
one  of  Guizot's  two  great  works,  322; 
the  work  completed,  332. 

Memoirs  on  ancient  history  of  France 
begun,  83. 

Memoirs  of  Guizot  begun,  304;  inter- 
rupted by  visit  to  England,  314; 
critiques  on  the  tirst  volume,  315; 
work  im,  continued,  322;  eighth  and 
last  volume  ends  with  the  23d  of  Febru- 
ary, 329;  the  work  tinished,  331. 

Memoirs  relating  to  the  History  of  the 
English  Revolution,  83. 

Mercure,  M.  Guizot's  contributions  to, 
24. 

Meulan,  Charles-Jacques-Louis  de,  35. 

Meulan  family,  Guizot's  affection  for  the, 
1G2. 

Meulan,  General  de,  brother  of  Madame 
Guizot,  G2;  his  wife  in  Guizot's  family, 
153. 

Meulan,  Madame  de,  in  charge  at  Val- 
Richer,  204  ;  her  accomplishments, 
204 

Meulan,  Mademoiselle  de,  M.  Guizot's 
notes  on,  34;  her  sympathy  and  self- 
devotion,  37;  saves  the  lite  of  M.  de 
Lamilliere,  38;  publishes  the  Contra- 
dictions m\(\.  La  Chapelle  d\4yt(/n,  39  ^ 
anxiety  at  death  ot'her  brother-in-law, 
40;  M.  Guizot  writes  for  her,  40;  be- 
comes M.  Guizot's  business  agent,  41; 
marriage,  41. 

Michelet's  works  not  fit  for  children  to 
read,  202. 

•'Mind  one,  in  two  bodies  for  us  to 
work  ns  we  do,"  353. 

Mind,  the  full,  overflows,  and  needs 
another  to  pour  its  thoughts  into,  301. 

Ministry,  eftbrt  of  the,  to  return  to 
Liberal  courses,  93. 

Mirbel,  Madame  de,  conceals  M.  Guizot, 
251. 

Moderates  terrified  at  Guizot's  conserva- 
tism, 265. 

Mole,  I\[.,  forms  a  new  Jlinistry,  169; 
his  Cabinet  dissolved,  186. 

Mollien,  Madame,  273. 

Monaldeschi  killed  bv  order  of  Christina, 
Queen  of  Sweden,  186. 

Money  matters,  63. 

Mnnod,  Adolphe,  called  the  first  of  Chris- 
tian orators,  death  of,  300. 

Montalembert's,  M.  de,  reception  by  the 
Academic  Fram^ai'^e,  278,  280;  three 
things  he  has  omitted  to  say,  282. 

Montesquiou,  Ahb^  dp,  appoints  M, 
Gmzot  his  secretary',  48. 

Morellet,  snlon  of  the  Abbe,  26;  his 
studies,  28;  friends  of,  29. 

Mortemart.  M.  de,  107. 

Mother's  love,  tenderness  of  a,  84, 


366 


INDEX. 


Mourning  for  the  King,  273. 
Mouriiinj;  forbidden  to  relations  of  vic- 
tims of  tli'e  Revolution,  4. 
Muller  tlie  historian,  biograpliy  of,  2i. 

N. 

Nantes,  revocation  of  Edict  of,  1;  ex- 
planation of  the  affair  at,  70. 

Naples,  King  of,  renders  service  to  Cavour 
by  beating  Garibaldi,  320 ;  himself  will 
be  dethroned  by  Cavour,  320. 

Napoleon  I.  cuts  each  year  into  four, 
202. 

Napoleon  II.  and  the  integrity  of  the 
Papal  States,  318. 

Napoleon,  Louis,  attempt  on  the  garrison 
at  Strasbourg,  173. 

Na.«sau  and  its  castle,  271. 

Nature  monotonous,  but  inexhaustible, 
78. 

Necker,  M.,  and  the  economists,  35. 

Nemours,  M.  Dupont  de,  29. 

Nemours,  Due  and  Duchesse  de,  dine 
with  M.  Guizol.  205. 

Neto  Tales  published  by  Madame  Guizot, 
83. 

New  year's  day,  solemnity  of,  16. 

Nicholas,  Ernperor,  ill-will  towards 
Louis-Philippe,  233;  refuses  to  allow 
intervention,  295. 

Nimes,  M.  Guizot  bom  at,  1;  visits 
with  his  wife,  48. 

Noah's  ark,  without  the  deluge,  at  Syd- 
enham Crystal  Palace,  209. 

Nomination  of  Guizot  proposed  bj' several 
constituencies  in  1849,  264',  given  up, 
265. 

Numbers  without  unity  produce  confu- 
sion, 174. 

o. 

Old  France  in  the  remembrance  of  new- 
generations.  72. 

Omer  Talon,  quotation  from,  66. 

Opposition,  the,  and  the  government, 
113. 

Ordonnances,  the  three,  which  caused 
the  Revolution  of  1830.  121. 

Orfila  a  successful  principal.  136. 

Orleans,  Duchess  of,  Guizot's  opinion  of, 
184. 

Orleans,  Duke  of,  marriage  to  Princess 
Helen  of  Mccklenburg-Schwerin,  184. 

Ormond,  Duke  of,  on  his  dead  son,  266. 


Palmerston,  Lord,  rebuked  by  Lord  Johii 
Russell,  281;  remark  on  Napoleon's 
wishes  as  to  integMtv  of  the  Papal 
States,  318. 

Panizzi,  Guizot  dines  with,  .309. 

Paris,  demolitions  in,  reach  Guizot's 
bouse,  317 ;  the  siege  of,  339. 


Parler,    parlement,    parole  —  words    of 

doubtful  origin,  109. 
Parliament  dissolved,  121. 
Parliamentum,  origin  ot  the  word,  109 ; 

lirst  used  in  modern  language,  110. 
Parole  of  doubtful  origin,  109. 
Past,  the,  as  precious  as  the  present,  82. 
Peace,  preservation  of,  266. 
Peaches  at  live  francs  each,  203. 
Pelet,  M.,  repairs  to  house  of  Minister  of 

Public  Instruction,  170. 
People  together  can  be  silent,  at  a  dis- 
tance they  want  to  talk,  301. 
Pere  de  famille,  homme  de  lettres  et,  vi. 
Perier,  M.  Casimir,  remark  to  the  King 

about  M.  Guizot,  123 ;  retired  from  the 

Council,  124;  death  from  the  cholera, 

129;  supported  in  the  Chamber  by  M. 

Guizot  and  his  friends.  139. 
Peschier,  M.,  abstracts  of  his  lectures,  11. 
Peyronnet,  M.  de,  angers  the  King  at  the 

Council,  120. 
Phoenix,  loss  of  the,  228. 
Pillars,  finest  antique,  in  the  world,  206. 
Piscatory,   M.,    33;    Guizot's    letter    to, 

274. 
Pity  for  all  that  is  lost  and  suffered  in 

life,  331. 
Placitum  signifies  contract,  convention, 

108. 
Pleasure  and  comfort  not  the  only  experi- 
ences In  this  world,  219;  the  pleasure 

of  giving  pleasures,  222- 
Plombieres,  Madame  Guizot  removed  to, 

88. 
Poetry,  M.  Guizot's  taste  for.  12,  21. 
Polignac,  M.  de,  ministry  ol',  106. 
Politeness  at  cost  of  smcerity,  14. 
Political  anarchy  of  long  dui'ation,  264. 
Political  crisis  more  serious.  169. 
Political  plots  and  persecutions,  69. 
Political  vicissitudes,  123,  177. 
Politics,  place   of,  in   the  society    of  the 

eighteenth  century,  27. 
Pope,  the,  missed  his  opportunity,  320; 

without  a  territory,  like  a  kite  without 

a  heavy  tail,  321. 
Poverty  and  vicissitudes  possible  in  every 

position,  248. 
Power  without  guns  impossible,  133. 
Pozzo  di  Borgo  an  enemv  of  I5onap.arte, 

53. 
President,  the,  will  be  "  the  King  of  our 

choice,"  275. 
Press,  liberty  of  the,  suspended,  121. 
Primary  education  in  France  established 

by  M.  Guizot,  145. 
Prizes,    subjects    proposed    for,    at    the 

Acad(?mie  Franfaise.  287,  288. 
Progress,  intellectual,  213. 
Proofs,  M.  Guizot's  careful  correction  of, 

70. 
Propertius,  extract  from  an  elegy  of,  155. 
Protestants,  asseml>lies    of,  interdicted, 

1 :   elementary   rights   secured    to,   2; 

flight  ot  from  France,  213. 
Prussm,   Ancient  History  of,  by  Kotze- 

bue,  articles  on,  24. 


IXDEX. 


367 


shrink,  as  a  cat  »"d>":  »  d""---  "^-  j 
PuWic     education,    (jiiuot »    "o"^"    '"y^S 
144  2G6;  his  wish  to  leave  a  recoid  of 
whit  hed.d,  and  pt-oposed  to  do  for, 

PnbUciste,  edited  by  M.  Souard,  39. 
Punctuation,  reasons  lor,  ISi- 

Q. 

Quickness  a  precious  quality,  188. 

R. 


Rank,  precedence  of,  236. 

Raphael's  St.  Micljael,  59. 

Razoniousky,  Madame  de   88. 

Ravez  to  be  made  a  peer   108.  . 

Reformation,  two  prmc.pal  charactcus- 

R"^rr^'3.  black  garntents  would 

RferSi:f?:™andloveof 

Re^r^^uftwo  ways  of  betng,  100;  true 

RHnusaf ^M.    de,    notice    of   Madame 

return  from  mission  to  England,  133, 
in  the  Cabinet,  171. 
Remnsat,  Madame  1  auline  de  118. 

Republic,  Guizot's  ^^"'''"."Vs'conterva- 
Republicans  furious  at  Guizot  s  conserva 

tism,  265.  ,      ,,     dead. 

Rest  and  justice  are  only  for  the  aeaa. 

Retirement,  a^t'^P^'Tr  °*Alv,nt'  3 
Revolution  in  hands  of  Ja^bins,  3. 
Revoluticm   of  1789    misrepresented    by 

Montalembert,  282. 
Revolution  of  1830.  cause  of,  121. 
Revolution  of  1848,  248. 
Revolutionary  spirit  on  the  declme  74. 
Revolutionary  theories  combated,  71. 
Jlevtie  Dramatique,  11.). 
Revue  Franqaise,  edited  by  M-  >J»>zot, 

Rtoe,  Guizot  on  the  banks  of  the  269. 
Richelieu,  M.  de  and  the  Ultras,  54. 

69  n. 
^f;^c;i'jr:i8l!'i32.  a  parody  onthe 
Revolution  of  1830,  13.3. 

characteristics  of,  279. 


Roman  Emperors,  Creyier's   History  of 

the   recomniendeu,  2ii-.  , 

Roman  question,  contemptible  phase  of, 

R^man  Republic,  Michclefs  History  of 

the,  very  '"a"'"™"^^',",  '  ,sn 
Romance  far  below  reality,  l»u. 
Rome,  RoUin's  History  ..f,  recommended, 

2Ul:  lichard's  also,  202. 
Rosewater  at  Lord  Mayor's  d-nner,  200^ 
Rousseau,  practical  teachings  of,  10,  im 

R.^;^Mm.,  professor  Mpl^l^BO- 
phv  in  college  of  literature,  M.  Gui/.ot 
^"iociated  with,  47;  recommends  M. 
G\;lzottotheAbbedeMontesqmo., 
48 ;  removed  from  the  Conseil  d  ttat, 
■iS-  under  the  surgeons  care,  S(, 
fa^ur  the  removal  of  Madaine  Guizot 
nri'ak,  87;  President  of. he  Cham- 
ber, 93;  warning  to  Guuot  on 
Ma'dame's  health,  146. 

Rulliicres,  M.  de,  2,  30. 

Ruord,  Madame  de,  art icleon,  26. 

Russell,  Lord  John,  rebukes  Lord  Palm- 

Ru'ia'and  England's   struggle  for  su- 
premacy  in  the  Last,  2J4. 


s. 

St.  Beuve,  M.  de,  on  Madame   Guizot, 

Sa^nt-Chamans,  M.  le  Comte  de,  36. 
I'm-Chamans;    Marguerite-Jeanne    de, 

wife  of  M.  de  Meulan,  35. 
Sa^nt  Cvr,  Marshal  Gouvion,  M.  Guizot 

prepares  speeches  for,  S4. 

SchXitAry,"^"  the  painter  of   souls, 
Sea!^effect  of  first  sight  of,  on  M.  Guizot, 

Seneca,  quotation  from,  bb. 

Scmor,    Mr.,    record    of    visit    to    \  al- 

Richer,  v.         ,  „   .     .    ono 
i-StZtSJl^Waandhis 

Sepra'tim^'srunnatural,  hardest  to  bear, 
sJvrtM.  de,  made  Garde  des  SceauK. 

Si^^'^n^l^-o^°"^-^^- 

S''^»^=^'bf^^^ea; 
Social   anarchy   succecaeu    oj    v 

SoTty'^fions  of,  to  emerge  from  chaos, 
sdtv  formed  of  relics  of  eighteenth 
Sorieu""'f  the  eighteenth  century,  26 

^"IIm^,  280 ,  their  domestic  hfe  per- 


368 


INDEX. 


feet,  290 ;  their  fitness  for  public  life, 
290. 

Sorrows,  pn'eat,  to  be  borne.  219. 

Soul,  everything  passes  away  except  the, 
311. 

Soilt,  Marshal,  President  of  the  Council, 
143. 

Sovereignty  of  the  people,  71. 

Sprengponter,  Count,  on  Napoleon  I., 
292. 

Stael,  Auguste  de,  death  of,  156. 

Staiil,  Madame  de,  her  Ten  Years  of 
Exile,  68. 

Stagnation  is  poison  for  the  young,  140. 

Stapfer,  M.,  Swiss  Minister  at  Paris, 
kindness  to  M.  Guizot,  20;  encourages 
his  literary  studies,  22;  presents  him 
to  M.  Suard,  Secretary  of  the  French 
Academy,  26;  Guizot  at  house  of,  41. 

Stein,  Baron,  his  ancient  castle,  271; 
contents  of  his  study,  272. 

Strawberries  at  Val-Kicher,  203. 

Suard,  M.,  Secretary  of  the  French 
Academy,  2(i;  character  of,  28;  friends 
of,  29;  freediiiii  of  thoui^htand  speech  at 
house  of,  30;  editor  i-f,  the  PublicUte,  39. 

Submission,  absolute  and  blind,  gives 
rest,  155. 

Success,  the  petty  details  of  annoying,  65. 

Switzerland  a  source  of  trouble,  174. 

Sydenham  Palace,  a  great  curiosity,  299. 

Synod  of  French  Protestants,  345;  open- 
ing labors  directed  bv  Guizot,  346. 

Syria,  insurrection  in,  ^05. 

T. 

Table  and  hat  turning,  292. 

Talleyrand,  M.  de,  conversation  at  house 
of,  33 ;  hope  resting  on.  51 ;  advises  the 
the  King  to  send  for  Due  de  Broglie, 
142. 

Tasso's  Jeimsalem  Delivered  recom- 
mended for  reading,  202. 

Ten  Years  of  Exile,  bv  Madame  de  Stael, 
68. 

Tenderness  of  Guizot's  letters  to  his 
wife,  82. 

Temininck,  Mademoiselle,  at  Val-Richer, 
269. 

Tesse,  Madame  de,  salon  of,  28. 

Texas,  a  new  nation  rising  up  in  Amer- 
ica, 136. 

Thiers,  IM.,  Home  Minister  in  Cabinet 
of  October  11,  supports  intervention  of 
France  in  civil  war,  142;  in  Spain,  169  ; 
head  of  a  new  Cabinet,  194. 

Thoughtlessness  the  great  fault  of  mor- 
tals, 208. 

Thucvdides  and  Boccaccio  not  exaggera- 
tors,  135. 

Thunder-storm,  232. 

Tocqueville,  M.  de,  on  Guizot,  vi,  .308. 

Tragedy,  a  lower-class,  what  it  may  be, 
67. 

Travels  in  Spain,  byRehfus,  translated 
by  M.  Guizot,  23. 


Treilhard,  the  Director,  38. 

Treport,  entrance  to  the  harbor  difficult, 

237. 
Turpin-Crisse.   Mile.    Aline  de,  wife   of 

General  de  Meulau,  62. 


u. 

Unity  without  numbers  becomes  tvranny, 

175. 
University,  all  the  good  in  the,  destroved 

by  Napoleon  II.,  286. 


Vaines,  M.  de,  39;  marries  Madame 
Dillon,  60;  removes  to  Paris,  81; 
lived  in  Guizot's  family,  153. 

Vaines,  Madame  de,  death  of,  81. 

Val-Ricber,  Guizot's  first  vitit  to,  163; 
bought.  166;  repairs  at,  173;  family 
settled  at,  201;  Touques  river.  163"; 
expense  of  improvements  at,  206 ;  life 
at,  delightful  to  the  children,  210; 
Guizot's  return  to  in  July,  1819,  265; 
all  there,  269;  managed  by  Conrad  de 
■Witt,  300;  sununer  life  at,  .i04;  pre- 
ferred to  Edinburgh,  311;  library  re- 
moved to,  317;  a  beautiful  and  capital 
residence,  317;  rest  at,  deligutful  to 
Guizot,  353. 

Van  Amburgh,  the  lion-tamer,  192. 

Vauquelin,  M.  de,  death  of,  110. 

Vernes,  Theodore,  marries  a  grand- 
daughter of  Guizot,  334;  at  Val-Kicher 
during  the  siege  of  Paris,  339. 

Victoria.  Queen,  her  gayetv  at  dinner,  219. 

Vienna  Conference  (tlie)  broken  up,  295. 

Villele,  M.  de,  policy  of,  92. 

Villemain,  M.,  permitted  to  resume  his 
lectures,  93. 

Virgil's  jiueid  recommended  for  read- 
ing, 202. 

Virtue,  strength  t.aken  outof,  14;  charms 
of,  no  longer  felt,  15. 

Visitors,  M.  Guizot's  manner  towards,  v. 

Vitet,  M.  Guizot's  letter  to,  on  death  of 
his  wife,  322;  and  on  his  Memoirs, 
323;  and  Meditations,  32i;  his  fraternal 
affection  for  M.  Duchatel,  .3.30;  notice 
of  Guizot's  nistori/  nf  France,  344; 
Guizot's  letter  on  the  death  of  Madame, 
348;  M.  Vitefs  death,  348;  Guizot's 
opinion  of,  349. 

Vitrolles,  M.  de,  answer  to  paper  by,  64. 

Vivacity  of  mind,  M.  Guizot's,  vi. 

Vivacity  of  JIadame  Guizot,  5. 

Voltaire,  27;  contemporaries  of,  29. 

Von  Giech,  Countess,  272. 


w. 

Walstein,  M.  Guizot's  five  articles  on,  42. 
Washington,  Life  o/' written,  181. 


INDEX. 


369 


Washington  would  have  had  nothinc;  to 

do   with   the   French    Kepiiblic,    275; 

Guizot's  MS.  of  article  on,   given  to 

Cornelia  de  Witt,  343. 
Weakness  of  man's  powers,  215. 
Weeping  spoils  the  eves,  5. 
Will,  extracts  from  Cruizot's,  290. 
Windsor  Castle,  twenty  ponnds  paid  in 

fees  to  servants  at,  217,  description  of, 

218. 
Wisdom,  with  how  little  the  world  is 

governed,  336  n, 
Witt,   Conrad  de,  and  wife  \ieit  Rome, 

277,  fond  of  agriculture,  2iJ9;  remain 

at    Val-Richer   during   the    sit'ge    of 

Paris,  339. 
Witt,  Conrad  and   Cornells  de,   marry 

Guizot's  dan<;hters,  269. 
Witt,  Cornells  de,  Guizot's  letter  to,  289; 

returns  to  Paris   with  his  wife,  339  ; 

elected  a    deputy  for  Calvados,  342; 

Under-Secretary  of  Minister  of  Interior, 

353. 
Witt,  Madame  Cornelis  de,  nobly  ful- 


filled her  task,  v;  letter  to,  33;  died 
at  forty-three,  2,')9;  in  jioor  health, 
292;  birth  of  her  fourth  son,  Frant/ois, 
334;  hair  turned  white  during  siege  of 
Paris,  342;  at  lacked  by  pleurisy,  3.50; 
from  Val-Richer  to  Cannes,  351; 
death,  .353. 

Witt,  £li^a  de,  birth  and  death,  27G. 

Witt,  Elisabeth  dc,  admitted  to  family 
circle,  269 ;  married  to  M.  Gaillard, 
297. 

Women  courted,  not  loved,  14. 

Work  the  law  of  Madame  Pauline 
Guizot's  life,  85  ;  Guizot's  chief  con- 
solation, 291. 


York,  from,    to    Edinburgh  with  Lord 

Aberdeen,  311. 
Young  people,  early  gravity  of,  not  to  be 

blamed,  15;  why  they  are  conceited, 

214. 


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